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“She felt my Presence and looked up quickly.” 


Day of Fate, 


Frontispiece, 



A DAY OF FATE. 

» 




BY 


REV. Ex^'Pp^OE, 


AUTHOR OF 


‘A Face Illumined” ''Near to Nature s Heart,” " Barriers Burned Away 
" Opening a Chestnut Burr,” "A Knight of the Nineteenth 
Century,” "Success with Small Fruits,” etc. 



NEW YORK 

DODD, MEAD, AND COMPANY 

Publishers 


c 



\ 



'' — ^ 



Copyright, 1880, 

By DODD, MEAD, & COMPANY. 


Copyright, 1893, 

By DODD, MEAD, & COMPANY, 


PREFACE. 


Some shallow story of deep love.” 

Shakespeare. 



CONTENTS 



§ook Jirsi. 


Aimless Steps, 

CHAPTER I. 

JAGE 

. . . II 

A June Day Dream, 

CHAPTER H. 

. . 4 22 

A Shining Tide, 

CHAPTER HI. 


Reality, 

CHAPTER IV. 


Mutual Discoveries, 

CHAPTER V. 


A Quaker Tea, 

CHAPTER VI. 


A Friend, , 

CHAPTER VII. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The Mystery of Mysteries, . 

. . . 90 

“Old Plod,” 

CHAPTER IX. 



VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER X. 

A Bit of Eden, 

PAGE 

. . . no 

CHAPTER XI. 

Moved,” 


CHAPTER XII. 

One of Nature’s Tragedies, . 

. . . 138 

CHAPTER XHI. 

The Lightning and a Subtler Flame, 

. . . 150 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Kindling a Spark of Life, . 

. . . 163 

CHAPTER XV. 

My Fate, . . 

. . • 173 


looh Stfonlr. 

CHAPTER I. 


The Day After, 



• • . 185 

" It was Inevitable,” 

CHAPTER II. 

. . . 205 

CHAPTER HI. 

Returning Consciousness, . . , 

• . . 213 

In the Dark, 

CHAPTER IV. 



CONTENTS. 


vil 


CHAPTER V. 


A Flash of Memory, .... 

rAGB 

CHAPTER VI. 

Weakness, 


CHAPTER VII. 

Old Plod Idealized, .... 

. . . 263 

CHAPTER VIII. 

An Impulse, 


CHAPTER IX. 

A Wretched Failure 

. . . 283 

CHAPTER X. 

In the Depths, 

. • • 291 

CHAPTER XI. 

Poor Acting, 


CHAPTER XII. 

The Hope of a Hidden Treasure, 

. . . 321 

CHAPTER XIII. 

The Old Meeting-House Again, . 

. . . 331 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Love Teaching Ethics, . 

. . . 345 

CHAPTER XV. 

Don’t Think of Me, .... 

. . . 356 


CONTENTS. 


viii 


CHAPTER XVI. 

‘‘ Richard,” 

PAuB 

. 372 

CHAPTER XVH. 

My Worst Blunder, .... 

. 389 

CHAPTER XVIIL 

Mrs. Yocomb’s Letters, .... 

. . . 402 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Adah, 

. 417 

CHAPTER XX. 

Thanksgiving Day, 

. . 425 

CHAPTER XXL 

Ripples on Deep Water, , , , 

• 1 441 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


She felt my presence and looked up quickly, Frontispuce. 

PAGB 

A MAN WAS IN THE ACT OF UNLOCKING THE DOOR, . . l8 

She caught my arm as if for protection,’ ... 97 

I THREW PART OF THE WATER IN MY PAIL UP AGAINST IT, , I46 

Miss Warren stood in the doorway, .... 258 

She rose to meet me, and said 303 

She turned quietly to her Piano, .... 354 
“Yes, I’ll go,” I said bitterly, and I strode away, 398 


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A DAY OF FATE. 




BOOK FIRST. 



CHAPTER L 


AIMLESS STEPS. 

A nother month’s work will knock Morton 
into ‘ pi/ ” was a remark that caught my 
ear as I fumed from the composing-room back to 
my private office. I had just irately blamed a 
printer for a blunder of my own, and the words I 
overheard reminded me of the unpleasant truth 
that I had recently made a great many senseless 
blunders, over which I chafed in merciless self- 
condemnation. For weeks and months my mind 
had been tense under the strain of increasing 
work and responsibility. It was my nature to be- 
come absorbed in my tasks, and, as night editor of 
a prominent city journal, I found a limitless field 
for labor. It was true I could have jogged along 
under the heavy burden with comparatively little 
wear and loss, but, impelled by both temperament 
and ambition, I was trying to maintain a racer’s 
speed. From casual employment as a reporter I 
had worked my way up to my present position, 
and the tireless activity and alertness required to 
win and hold such a place was seemingly degenerat- 
ing into a nervous restlessness which permitted no 
repose of mind or rest of body. I worked when 
other men slept, but, instead of availing myself of 
the right to sleep when the world was awake, I 
yielded to an increasing tendency to wakefulness. 


12 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


and read that I might be informed on the endless 
variety of subjects occupying public attention. 
The globe was becoming a vast hunting-ground, 
around which my thoughts ranged almost unceas- 
ingly that I might capture something new, striking, 
or original for the benefit of our paper. Each day 
the quest had grown more eager, and as the hour 
for going to press approached I would even become 
feverish in my intense desire to send the paper out 
with a breezy, newsy aspect, and would be elated 
if, at the last moment, material was flashed in that 
would warrant startling head-lines, and correspond- 
ingly depressed if the weary old world had a few 
hours of quiet and peace. To make the paper ‘ ‘ go, 
every faculty I possessed was in the harness. 

The aside I had just overheard suggested, at 
least, one very probable result. In printer’s jar- 
gon, I would soon be in “ pi.” 

The remark, combined with my stupid blunder, 
for which I had blamed an innocent man, caused 
me to pull up and ask myself whither I was hurry- 
ing so breathlessly. Saying to my assistant that I 
did not wish to be disturbed for a half hour, unless 
it was essential, I went to my little inner room. I 
wished to take a mental inventory of myself, and see 
how much was left. Hitherto I had been on the keen 
run — a condition not favorable to introspection. 

Neither my temperament nor the school in which 
I had been trained inclined me to slow, deliberate 
processes of reasoning. I looked my own case over 
as I might that of some brother-editors whose jour- 
nals were draining them of life, and whose obitua- 


AIMLESS STEPS, 


^3 


ries I shall probably write if I survive them. 
Reason and Conscience, now that I gave them a 
chance, began to take me to task severely. 

“You are a blundering fool,” said Reason, “ and 
the man in the composing-room is right. You are 
chafing over petty blunders while ignoring the fact 
that your whole present life is a blunder, and the 
adequate reason why your faculties are becoming 
untrustworthy. Each day you grow more nervously 
anxious to have everything correct, giving your 
mind to endless details, and your powers are begin- 
ning to snap like the overstrained strings of a violin. 
At this rate you will soon spend yourself and all 
there is of you.” 

Then Conscience, like an irate judge on the bench, 
arraigned me. “You are a heathen, and your paper 
is your car of Juggernaut. You are ceasing to be 
a man and becoming merely an editor — no, not even 
an editor — a newsmonger, one of the world’s gos- 
sips. You are an Athenian only as you wish to 
hear and tell some new thing. Long ears are be- 
coming the appropriate symbols of your being. You 
are too hurried, too eager for temporary success, 
too taken up with details, to form calm, philosoph- 
ical opinions of the great events of your .time, and 
thus be able to shape men’s opinions. You com- 
menced as a reporter, and are a reporter still. You 
pride yourself that you are not narrow, unconscious 
of the truth that you are spreading yourself thinly 
over the mere surface of affairs. You have little 
comprehension of the deeper forces and motives of 
humanity. 


14 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


It is true that I might have pleaded in extenua- 
tion of these rather severe judgments that I was 
somewhat alone in the world, living in bachelor 
apartments, without the redeeming influences of 
home and family life. There were none whose love 
gave them the right or the motive to lay a restrain- 
ing hand upon me, and my associates in labor were 
more inclined to applaud my zeal than to curb it. 
Thus it had been left to the casual remark of a 
nameless printer and an instance- of my own failing 
powers, to break the spell that ambition and habit 
were weaving. 

Before the half hour elapsed I felt weak and ill. 
The moment I relaxed the tension and will-power 
which I had maintained so long, strong reaction set 
in. Apparently I had about reached the limits of 
endurance. I felt as if I were growing old and 
feeble by minutes as one might by years. Taking 
my hat and coat I passed out, remarking to my as- 
sistant that he must do the best he could — that I 
was ill and would not return. If the Journal had 
never appeared again I could not then have written 
a line to save it, or read another proof. 

Saturday morning found me feverish, unrefreshed, 
and more painfully conscious than ever that I was 
becoming little better than the presses on which the 
paper was printed. Depression inevitably follows 
weariness and exhaustion, and one could scarcely 
take a more gloomy view of himself than I 
did. 

“ I will escape from this city as if it were Sodom,” 
I muttered, “and a June day in the country^ will 


AIMLESS STEFS. 


*5 


reveal whether I have a soul for anything beyond 
the wrangle of politics and the world’s gossip.” 

In my despondency I was inclined to be reckless, 
and after merely writing a brief note to my editorial 
chief, saying that I had broken down and was go- 
ing to the country, I started almost at random. 
After a few hours’ riding I wearied of the cars, and 
left them at a small village whose name I did not 
care to inquire. The mountains and scenery pleased 
me, although the day was overcast like my mind 
and fortunes. Having found a quiet inn and gone 
through the form of a dinner, I sat down on the 
porch in dreary apathy. 

The afternoon aspect of the village street seemed 
as dull and devoid of interest as my own life at that 
hour, and in fancy I saw myself, a broken-down 
man, lounging away days that would be like eter- 
nities, going through my little round like a bit of 
driftwood, slowly circling in an eddy of the world’s 
great current. With lack-lustre eyes I ” looked up 
to the hills, ’ ’ but no ’ ‘ help’ ’ came from them. The 
air was close, the sky leaden ; even the birds would 
not sing. Why had I come to the country ? It had 
no voices for me, and I resolved to return to the 
city. But while I waited my eyes grew heavy with 
the blessed power to sleep — a boon for which I then 
felt that I would travel to the Ultima Thule. Leav- 
ing orders that I should not be disturbed, I went to 
my room, and Nature took the tired man, as if he 
were a weary child, into her arms. 

At last I imagined that I was at the Acade- 
my of Music, and that the orchestra were tun- 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


i6 

ing their instruments for the overture. A louder 
strain than usual caused me to start up, and I saw 
through the open window a robin on a mapk bough, 
with its tuneful throat swelled to the utmost. This 
was the leader of my orchestra, and the whole coun- 
try was alive with musicians, each one giving out 
his own notes without any regard for the others, 
but apparently the score had been written for them 
all, since the innumerable strains made one divine 
harmony. From the full-orbed song from the 
maple by my window, down to the faintest chirp 
and twitter, there was no discord ; while from the 
fields beyond the village the whistle of the meadow- 
larks was so mellowed and softened by distance as 
to incline one to wonder whether their notes were 
real or mere ideals of sound. 

For a long time I was serenely content to listen 
to the myriad-voiced chords without thinking of the 
past or future. At last I found myself idly query- 
ing whether Nature did not so blend all out-of door 
sounds as to make them agreeable, when suddenly a 
catbird broke the spell of harmony by its flat, dis- 
cordant note. Instead of my wonted irritation at 
anything that jarred upon my nerves, I laughed as 
I sprang up, saying, 

“ That cry reminds me that I am in the body and 
in the same old world. That bird is near akin to 
the croaking printer.” 

But my cynicism was now more assumed than 
real, and I began to wonder at myself. The change 
of air and scene had seemingly broken a malign in- 
fluence, and sleep— that for weeks had almost for- 


AIMLESS STEPS. 


17 


saken me — had yielded its deep refreshment for fif- 
teen hours. Besides, I had not sinned against my 
life so many years as to have destroyed the elastic- 
ity of early manhood. When I had lain down to 
rest I had felt myself to be a weary, broken, aged 
man. Had I, in my dreams, discovered the Foun- 
tain of Youth, and unconsciously bathed in it ? In 
my rebound toward health of mind and body I 
seemed to have realized what the old Spaniard 
vainly hoped for. 

I dressed in haste, eager to be out in the early 
June sunshine. There had been a shower in the 
night, and the air had a fine exhilarating quality, in 
contrast with the clo«e sultriness of the previous 
afternoon. 

Instead of nibbling at a breakfast while I devoured 
the morning dailies, I ate a substantial meal, and 
only thought of papers to bless their absence, and 
then walked down the village street with the quick 
glad tread of one whose hope and zest in life have 
been renewed. Fragrant June roses were opening 
on every side, and it appeared to me that all the sin 
of man could not make the world offensive to heaven 
that morning. 

I wished that some of the villagers whom I met 
were more in accord with Nature’s mood ; but in 
view of my own shortcomings, and still more be- 
cause of my fine physical condition, I was disposed 
toward a large charity. And yet I could not help 
wondering how some that I saw could walk among 
their roses and still look so glum and matter-of-fact 
I felt a3 if I could kiss every velvet petal 


i8 


A DAY OF FATE. 


'‘You were unjust,” I charged back on Con 
science ; ” this morning proves that I am not an 
ingrained newsmonger. There is still man enough 
left within me to revive at Nature’s touch and I 
exultantly quickened my steps until I had left the 
village miles away. 

Before the morning was half gone I learned how 
much of my old vigor had ebbed, for I was growing 
weary early in the day. Therefore I paused before 
a small gray building, old and weather-stained, that 
seemed neither a barn, nor a dwelling, nor a school- 
house. A man was in the act of unlocking the door, 
and his garb suggested that it might be a Friends’ 
meeting-house. Yielding to an idle curiosity I 
mounted a stone wall at a point where I was shaded 
and partially screened by a tree, and watched and 
waited, beguiling the time with a branch of sweet- 
brier that hung over my resting-place. 

Soon strong open wagons and rockaways began 
to appear, drawn by sleek, plump horses that often, 
seemingly, were gayer than their drivers. Still 
there was nothing sour in the aspect or austere in 
the garb of the people. Their quiet appearance 
took my fancy amazingly, and the peach-like bloom 
on the cheeks of even well-advanced matrons sug- 
gested a serene and quiet life. 

“ These are the people of all others with whom I 
would like to worship to-day,” I thought ; ” and I 
hope that that rotund old lady, whose face beams 
under the shadow of her deep bonnet like a harvest 
moon through a fleecy cloud, will feel moved to 
speak.” I plucked a few buds from the sweet-brier 



A Man was in the act of unlocking the Door. 


Day of Fate. 


Page i8 



AIMLESS STEPS. 


^9 


bush, fastened them in my button-hole, and prompt- 
ly followed the old lady into the meeting-house. 
Having found a vacant pew I sat down, and looked 
around with serene content. But I soon observed 
that something was amiss, for the men folk looked 
at each other and then at me. At last an elderly 
and substantial Friend, with a face so flushed and 
round as to suggest a Baldwin apple, arose and 
creaked with painful distinctness to where I was in- 
nocently infringing on one of their customs. 

“ If thee will follow me, friend,” he said, ” I’ll 
give thee a seat with the men folks. Thee’s welcome, 
and thee’ll feel more at home to follow our ways.” 

His cordial grasp of my hand would have dis- 
armed suspicion itself, and I followed him meekly. 
In my embarrassment and desire to show that I had 
no wish to appear forward, I persisted in taking a 
side seat next to the wall, and quite near the door ; 
for my guide, in order to show his good-will and to 
atone for what might seem rudeness, was bent on 
marshalling me almost up to the high seats that 
faced the congregation, where sat my rubicund old 
Friend lady, whose aspect betokened that she had 
just the Gospel message I needed. 

I at once noted that these staid and decorous 
people looked straight before them in an attitude 
of quiet expectancy. A few little children turned 
on me their round, curious eyes, but no one else 
stared at the blundering stranger, whose modisli 
coat, with a sprig of wild roses in its button-hole, 
made him rather a conspicuous contrast to the other 
men folk, and I thought — 


50 


A DAY OF FAT±.. 


** Here certainly is an example of good-breeding 
which could scarcely be found among other Chris- 
tians. If one of these Friends should appear in the 
most fashionable church on the Avenue he would 
be well stared at, but here even the children are re- 
ceiving admonitory nudges not to look at me.” 

I soon felt that it was not the thing to be the 
only one who was irreverently looking around, and 
my good-fortune soon supplied ample motive for 
looking steadily in one direction. The reader may 
justly think that I should have composed my mind 
to meditation on my many sins, but I might as well 
have tried to gather in my hands the reins of all the 
wild horses of Arabia as to curb and manage my 
errant thoughts. My only chance was for some one 
or something to catch and hold them for me. If 
that old Friend lady would preach I was sure she 
would do me good. As it was, her face was an 
antidote to the influences of^ the world in which I 
dwelt, but I soon began to dream that I had found 
a still better remedy, for, at a fortunate angle from 
my position, there sat a young Quakeress whose 
side face arrested my attention and held it. By 
leaning a little against the wall as well as the back 
of my bench, I also, well content, could look 
straight before me like the others. 

The fair profile was but slightly hidden by a hat 
that had a perceptible leaning toward the world in 
its character, but the brow was only made to seem 
a little lower, and her eyes deepened in their blue 
by its shadow. My sweet-brier blossoms were not 
more delicate in their pink shadings than was the 


AIMLESS STEPS. 


2i 

bloom on her rounded cheek, and the white, firm 
chin denoted an absence of weakness and frivolity. 
The upper lip, from where I sat, seemed one half 
of Cupid’s bow. I could but barely catch a glimpse 
of a ripple of hair that, perhaps, had not been 
smoothed with sufficient pains, and thus seemed in 
league with the slightly worldly bonnet. In brief, 
to my kindled fancy, her youth and loveliness ap- 
peared the exquisite human embodiment of the 
June morning, with its alternations of sunshine and 
shadow, its roses and their fragrance, of its abound- 
ing yet untarnished and beautiful life. 

No one in the meeting seemed moved save my- 
self, but I felt as if I could become a poet, a painter, 
and even a lover, under the inspiration of that 
perfect profile. 


CHAPTER II. 

A JUNE DAY-DREAM. 

M oment after moment passed, but we all sat 
silent and motionless. Through the open 
windows came a low, sweet monotone of the wind 
from the shadowing maples, sometimes swelling 
into a great depth of sound, and again dying to a 
whisper, and the effect seemed finer than that of 
the most skilfully-touched organ. Occasionally an 
irascible humble-bee would dart in, and, after a 
moment of motionless poise, would dart out again," 
as if in angry disdain of the quiet people. In its 
irate hum and sudden dartings I saw my own irrita- 
ble fuming and nervous activity, and I blessed the 
Friends and their silent meeting. I blessed the 
fair June face, that was as far removed from the 
seething turmoil of my world as the rosebuds un- 
der her home-windows. 

Surely I had drifted out of the storm into the 
very haven of rest and peace, and yet one might 
justly dread lest the beauty which bound my eyes 
every moment in a stronger fascination should evoke 
an unrest from which there might be no haven. 
Young men, however, rarely shrink from such 
perils, and I was no more prudent than my fellows. 
Indeed, I was inclining toward the fancy that this 
June day was the day of destiny with me ; and if 
such a creature were the remedy for my misshapen 
life it would be bliss to take it. 


A JUNE DAY-DREAM. 35 

in our sweet silence, broken only by the voice 
of the wind, the twitter of birds beguiling per- 
haps, with pretty nonsense the hours that would 
otherwise seem long to their brooding mates on the 
nests, and the hum of insects, my fancy began to 
create a future for the fair stranger — a future, rest 
assured, that did not leave the dreamer a calm and 
disinterested observer. 

“ This day,” I said mentally, ” proves that there 
)s a kindly and superintending Providence, and 
men are often led, like children in the dark, to just 
the thing they want. The wisdom of Solomon 
could not have led me to a place more suited to my 
taste and need than have my blind, aimless steps ; 
and before me are possibilities which suggest th ' 
vista through which Eve was led to Adam.” 

My constant contact with men who were keen, 
self-seeking, and often unscrupulous, inclined me 
toward cynicism and suspicion. My editorial life 
made me an Arab in a sense, for if there were occa- 
sion, my hand might be against any man, if not 
every man. I certainly received many merciless 
blows, and I was learning to return them with in- 
creasing zest. My column in the paper was often 
a tilting-ground, and whether or no I inflicted 
wounds that amounted to much, I received some 
that long rankled. A home such as yonder woman 
might make would be a better solace than news- 
paper files. Such lips as those might easily draw 
the poison from any wound the world could make. 
Wintry firelight would be more genial than even 


24 


A DA Y OF fa TE. 


June sunlight, if her eyes would reflect it into 
mine. With such companionship, all the Grad- 
grinds in existence would prose in vain ; life would 
never lose its ideality, nor the world become a mere 
combination of things. Her woman’s fancy would 
embroider my man’s reason and make it beautiful, 

' while not taking from its strength. Idiot that I 
was, in imagining that I alone could achieve suc- 
cess ! Inevitably I could make but a half success, 
since the finer and feminine element would be want- 
ing. Do I wish men only to read our paper } Am 
I a Turk, holding the doctrine that women have no 
souls, no minds ? The shade of my mother forbid ! 
Then how was I, a man, to interpret the world 
to women ? Truly, I had been an owl of the night, 
and blind to the honest light of truth when I yielded 
to the counsel of ambition, that I had no time for 
courtship and marriage. In my stupid haste I 
would try to grope my way through subjects be- 
yond a man’s ken, rather than seek some such guide 
as yonder maiden, whose intuitions would be uner- 
ring when the light of reason failed. In theory, I 
held the doctrine that there was sex in mind as 
truly as in the material form. Now I was inclined 
to act as if my doctrine were true, and to seek to 
double my power by winning the supplemental 
strength and grace of a woman’s soul. 

Indeed, my day-dream was becoming exceedingly 
thrifty in its character, and I assured ambition that 
the companionship of such a woman as yonder 
maiden must be might become the very corner- 
stone of success. 


A JUNE DAY-DREAM. 


25 


Time passed, and still no one was “moved." 
Was my presence the cause of the spiritual paraly- 
sis I think not, for I was becoming conscious of 
reverent feeling and deeper motives. If the fair 
face was my Gospel message, it was already leading 
me beyond the thoughts of success and ambition, 
of mental power and artistic grace. Her womanly 
beauty began to awaken my moral nature, and her 
pure face, that looked as free from guile as any daisy 
with its eye turned to the sun, led me to ask, “ What 
right have you to approach such a creature ? Think 
of her needs, of her being first, and not your own. 
Would you drag her into the turmoil of your world 
because she would be a solace ? Would you dis- 
turb the maidenly serenity of that brow with knowl- 
edge of evil and misery, the nightly record of which 
you have collated so long that you are callous ? 
You, whose business it is to look behind the scenes 
of life, will you disenchant her also ? It is your 
duty to unmask hypocrisy, and to drag hidden evil 
to light, but will you teach her to suspect and dis- 
trust ? Should you not yourself become a better, 
truer, purer man before you look into the clear 
depths of her blue eyes ? Beware, lest thought- 
lessly or selfishly you sully their limpid truth." 

“ If she could be God’s evangel to me, I might 
indeed be a better man," I murmured. 

“ That is ever the way," suggested Conscience ; 
“ there is always an ‘ if ’ in the path of duty ; and 
you make your change for the better dependent on 
the remote possibility that yonder maiden will ever 
look on you as other than a casual stranger that 


A PA V OJ^ FA T&. 


^6 

caused a slight disturbance in the wonted placidity 
of their meeting hour.” 

“Hush,” I answered Conscience, imperiously; 
“ since the old Friend lady will not preach, I shall 
endure none of your homiU's. I yield myself to 
the influences of this day, and during this hour no 
curb shall be put on fancy. In my soul I know 
that I would be a better man if she is what she^ 
seems, and could be to me all that I have dreamed ; 
and were I tenfold worse than I am, she would be 
the better for making me better. Did not Divine 
purity come the closest to sinful humanity ? I shall 
approach this maiden in fancy, and may seek her in 
reality, but it shall be with a respect so sincere and 
an homage so true as to rob my thoughts and quest 
of bold irreverence or of mere selfishness. Suppose 
I am seeking my own good, my own salvation it 
may be, I am not seeking to wrong her. Are not 
heaven’s best gifts best won by giving all for them? 
I would lay my manhood at her feet. I do not ex- 
pect to earn her or buy her, giving a ^uzd pro quo. 
A woman’s love is like the grace of heaven — a 
royal gift ; and the spirit of the suitor is more re- 
garded than his desert. Moreover, I do not pro- 
pose to soil her life with the evil world that I must 
daily brush against, but through her influence to do 
a little toward purifying that world. Since this is 
but a dream, I shall dream it out to suit me. 

“ That stalwart and elderly Friend who led me 
to this choice point of observation is her father. 
The plump and motherly matron on the high seat, 
whose face alone is^a remedy for care and worry, is 


A JUNE DA Y-DREAM. 


27 


her mother. They will invite me home with them 
when meeting is over. Already I see the tree- 
embowered farmhouse, with its low, wide veranda, 
and old-fashioned roses climbing the lattice-work. 
In such a fragrant nook, or perhaps in the orchard 
back of the house, I shall explore the wonderland 
of this maiden’s mind and heart. Beyond the in- 
nate reserve of an unsophisticated womanly nature 
there will be little reticence, and her thoughts will 
flow with the clearness and unpremeditation of the 
brook that I crossed on my way here. What a 
change they will be from the world’s blotted page 
that I have read too exclusively of late ! 

' Perhaps it will appear to her that I have be- 
come smirched by these pages, and that my charac- 
ter has the aspect of a printer at the close of his 
day’s tasks. 

“ This source of fear, however, is also a source 
of hope. If she has the quickness of intuition to dis- 
cover that I know the world too well, she will also 
discern the truth that I would gladly escape from 
that which might eventually destroy my better na- 
ture, and that hers could be the hand which might 
rescue my manhood. To the degree that she is a 
genuine woman there will be fascination in the 
power of making a man more manly and worthy of 
respect. Especially will this be true if I have the 
supreme good-fortune not to offend her woman’s 
fancy, and to excite her sympathy without awaken- 
ing contempt. 

But I imagine I am giving her credit for more 
maturity of thought and discernment than her years 


28 


A DAY OR FA TE. 


permit. She must be young, and her experiences 
would give her no means of understanding my life. 
She will look at me with the frank, unsuspecting 
gaze of a child. She Avill exercise toward me that 
blessed phase of charity which thinketh no evil 
because ignorant of evil. 

“ Moreover, while I am familiar with the sin of 
the world, and have contributed my share toward it, 
I am not in love with it ; and I can well believe that 
such a love as she might inspire would cause me to 
detest it. If for her sake and other good motives, 
I should resolutely and voluntarily turn my back 
on evil, would I not have the right to walk at the 
side of one who, by the goodhap of her life, knows 
no evil ? At any rate, I am not sufficiently mag- 
nanimous to forego the opportunity should it occur. 
Therefore, among the lengthening shadows of this 
June day I shall woo with my utmost skill one who 
may be able to banish the deeper shadows that are 
gathering around my life ; and if I fail I shall carry 
the truth of her spring-time beauty and girlish in- 
nocence back to the city, and their memory will 
daily warn me to beware lest I lose the power to 
love and appreciate that which is her pre-eminent 
charm. 

“ But enough of that phase of the question. 
There need be no failure in my dream, however 
probable failure may be in reality. Let me imagine 
that in her lovely face I may detect the slight curi- 
osity inspired by a stranger passing into interest 
She will be shy and reserved at first ; but as the 
delicious sense of being understood and admired 


J JUNE DA Y- DREAM. 


29 


gams, master^, her thoughts will gradually reveal 
her heart like the opening petals of a rose, and I 
can reverently gaze upon the rich treasures of which 
she is the unconscious possessor, and which I may 
win without impoverishing her. 

“ Her ready laugh, clear and mellow as the rob- 
in’s song that woke me this morning, will be the 
index of an unfailing spring of mirthfulness — of 
that breezy, piquant, laughing philosophy which 
gives to some women an indescribable charm, en- 
abling them to render gloom and despondency rare 
inmates of the home over which they preside. 
When I recall what dark depths of perplexity and 
trouble my mother often hid with her light laugh, I 
remember that I have never yet had a chance even 
to approach her in heroism. In my dream, at least, 
I can give to my wife my mother’s laugh and cour- 
age ; and surely Nature, w'ho has endowed yonder 
maiden with so much beauty, has also bestowed 
every suitable accompaniment. Wherefore I shall 
discover in her eyes treasures of sunshine that shall 
light my home on stormy days and winter nights. 

“ As I vary our theme of talk from bright to sad 
experiences, I shall catch a glimpse of that without 
which the world would become a desert — woman’s 
sympathy. Possibly I may venture to suggest my 
own need, and emphasize it by a reference to Holy 
Writ. That would be appropriate in a Sunday 
wooing. Surely she would admit that if Adam 
could not endure being alone in Eden, a like fate 
would be far more deserving of pity in such a wil- 
derness as New York. 


30 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


“ Then, as a sequel to her sympathy, I may wit- 
ness the awakening of that noble characteristic of 
woman — self-sacrifice — the generous impulse to 
give happiness, even though at cost to self. 

“ As the winged hours pass, and our glances, our 
words, our intuitions, and the subtle laws of mag- 
netism that are so powerful, and yet so utterly be- 
yond the ken of reason, reveal us to each other, I 
detect in the depths of her blue eyes a light which 
vanishes when I seek it, but returns again — a prin- 
ciple which she does not even recognize, much less 
understand, and yet which she already uncon- 
sciously obeys. Her looks are less frank and open, 
her manner grows deliciously shy, she hesitates and 
chooses her words, but is not so happy in their 
choice as when she spoke without premeditation. 
Instead of the wonted bloom on her cheek her color 
comes and goes. Oh, most exquisite phase of hu- 
man power ! I control the fountain of her life ; 
and by an act, a word, a glance even, can cause the 
crimson tide to rise even to her brow, and then 
to ebb, leaving her sad and pale. Joy ! joy ! I 
have won that out of which can be created the 
best thing of earth, and the type of heaven — a 
home !” 

At this supreme moment in my day-dream, an 
elderly Friend on the high seat gave his hand to an- 
other white-haired man who had, for the last hour, 
leaned his chin on his stout cane, and meditated 
under the shadow of his broad-brimmed hat, and 
our silent meeting was over. The possessor of the 
exquisite profile who had led me through a flight of 


A JUNE DAY-DREAM. 3 1 

romance such as I had never known before, turned 
and looked directly at me. 

The breaking of my dream had been too sudden, 
and I had been caught too high up to alight again 
on the solid ground of reality with ease and grace. 
The night-editor blushed like a school-girl under her 
glance, at which she seemed naturally surprised. 
She, of course, could imagine no reason why her 
brief look of curiosity should cause me confusion 
and bring a guilty crimson to my face. I took it as 
a good omen, however, and said mentally, as I 
passed out with the others, 

“ My thoughts have already established a subtle 
influence over her. drawing her eyes and the first 
delicate tendril o^ interest toward one to whom she 
may cling for life *’ 


CHAPTER IIL 


A SHINING TIDE 


S I was strenuously seeking to gain possession 



-tx. of my wits, so that I could avail myself of any 
opportunity that offered, or could be made by ad- 
roit, prompt action, the stalwart and elderly Friend, 
who had seemed thus far one of the ministers of my 
impending fate, again took my hand and said, 

“ I hope thee’ll forgive me for asking thee to 
conform to our ways, and not think any rudeness 
was meant.” 

” The grasp of your hand at once taught me that 
you were friendly as well as a Friend,” I replied. 

” We should not belie our name, truly. I fear 
thee did not enjoy our silent meeting ?” 

” You are mistaken, sir. It was just the meet- 
ing which, as a weary man, I needed.” 

” I hope thee wasn’t asleep.^” he said, with a 
humorous twinkle in his honest blue eyes. 

“You are quite mistaken again,” I answered, 
smiling ; but I should have been in a dilemma had 
he asked me if I had been dreaming. 

“ Thee’s a stranger in these parts,” he continued, 
in a manner that suggested kindness rather than 
curiosity. 

“ Possibly this is the day of my fate,” I thought, 
“and this man the father of my ideal woman. 
And I decided to angle with my utmost skill for an 
invitation. 


A SHINING TIDE. 


33 


“ You are correct,” I replied, ” and I much re- 
gret that I have wandered so far from my hotel, for 
I am not strong.” 

” Well, thee may have good cause to be sorry, 
though we do our best ; but if thee’s willing to put 
up with homely fare and homely people, thee’s wel- 
come to come home with us.” 

Seeing eager acquiescence in my face, he continu- 
ed, without giving me time to reply, ” Here, mother, 
thee always provides enough for one more. We’ll 
have a stranger within our gates to-day, perhaps.” 

To my joy the Friend lady, with a face like a 
benediction, turned at his words. At the same 
moment a large, three-seated rockaway, with a ruddy 
boy as driver, drew up against the adjacent horse- 
block, while the fair unknown, who had stood 
among a bevy of young Quakeresses like a tall lily 
among lesser flowers, came toward us holding a lit- 
tle girl by the hand. The family group was draw- 
ing together according to my prophetic fancy, and 
my heart beat thick and fast. Truly this was the 
day of fate ! 

” Homely people” indeed ! and what cared I for 
” fare” in the very hour of destiny ! 

” Mother,” he said, with his humorous twinkle, 

I’m bent on making amends to this stranger who 
seemed to have a drawing toward thy side of the 
house. Thee didn’t give him any spiritual fare in 
the meeting-house, but I think thee’ll do better by 
him at the farmhouse. When I tell thee that he 
is not well and a long way from home, thee’ll give 
him a welcome. 


34 


A DA Y OF FA IE. . 


“ Indeed,” said the old lady, taking my hand 
in her soft, plump palm, while her face fairly beamed 
with kindliness; ” it would be a poor faith that 
did not teach us our duty toward the stranger ; 
and, if I mistake not, thee’ll change our duty into 
a pleasure.” 

” Do not hope to entertain an angel,” I said. 

“ That’s well,” the old gentleman put in ; “ our 
dinner will be rather too plain and substantial for 
angels’ fare. I think thee’ll be the better for it 
though.” 

” I am the better already for your most unex- 
pected kindness, which I now gratefully accept as a 
stranger. I hope, however, that I may be able to 
win a more definite and personal regard and I 
handed the old gentleman my card. 

” Richard Morton is thy name, then. I’ll place 
thee beside Ruth Yocomb, my wife. Come, moth- 
er, we’re keeping Friend Jones’s team from the 
block. My name is Thomas Yocomb. No, no, 
take the back seat by my wife. She may preach to 
thee a little going home. Drive on, Reuben,” he 
added, as he and his two daughters stepped quickly 
in, ” and give Friend Jones a chance. This is Adah 
Yocomb, my -daughter, and this is little Zillah. 
Mother thought that since the two names went to- 
gether in Scripture they ought to go together out 
of it, and I am the last man in the world to go 
against the Scripture. That’s Reuben Yocomb 
driving. Now thee knows all the family, and I 
hope thee don’t feel as much of a stranger as thee 
did and the hearty old man turned and besomed 


A SHINING TIDE. 35 

on me with a good-will that I felt to be as warm and 
genuine as the June sunshine. 

“ To be frank,” I exclaimed, ” I am at a loss to 
understand your kindness. In the city we are sus- 
picious of strangers and stand aloof from them ; but 
you treat me as if I had brought a cordial letter of 
introduction from one you esteemed highly.” 

” So thee has, so thee has ; only the letter came 
before thee did. ‘ Be not forgetful to entertain 
strangers’ — that’s the way it reads, doesn’t itj 
mother ?” 

” Moreover, Richard Morton,” his wife added, 

thee has voluntarily come among us, and sat 
down with us for a quiet hour. Little claim to the 
faith of Abraham could we have should we let thee 
wander off to get thy dinner with the birds in the 
woods, for the village is miles away.” 

” Mother’ll make amends to thee for the silent 
meeting,” said Mr. Yocomb, looking around with 
an impressive nod. 

” I trust she will,” I replied. ” I wanted to heai 
her preach. It was her kindly face that led to my 
blunder, for it so attracted me from my perch of 
observation on the wall that I acted on my im- 
pulse and followed her into the meeting-house, feel- 
ing in advance that I had found a friend.” 

” Well, I guess thee has, one of the old school,’* 
laughed her husband. 

The daughter, Adah, turned and looked at me, 
while she smiled approvingly. Oh, blessed day of 
destiny ! When did dream and reality so keep pace 
before ? Was I not dreaming still, and imagining 


36 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


everything to suit my own fancy ? When would the 
perverse world begin to assert itself ? 

Sitting just before me, on the next seat, so that I 
could often see the same perfect profile, was the 
maiden that I had already wooed and won in fancyo 
Though she was so near, and in the full sunlight, 
I could detect no cloudiness in her exquisite com- 
plexion, nor discover a fault in her rounded form. 
The slope of her shoulders was grace itself. She 
did not lean back weakly or languidly, but sat erect, 
with the quiet, easy poise of vigor and health. Her 
smile was frank and friendly, and yet not as enchant- 
ing as I expected. It was an affair of facial muscles 
rather than the lighting up of the entire visage. 
Nor did her full face — now that m)^ confusion had 
passed away and I was capable of close observation 
— give the same vivid impression of beauty made 
by her profile. It was pretty, very pretty, but for 
some reasons disappointing. Then I smiled at my 
half-conscious criticism, and thought, “You have 
imagined a creature of unearthly perfection, and 
expect your impossible ideal to be realized. Were 
she all that you have dreamed, she would be much 
too fine for an ordinary mortal like yourself. In her 
rich, unperverted womanly nature you will find 
the beauty that will outlast that of form and 
feature.” 

“ I fear thee found our silent meeting long and 
tedious,” said Mrs. Yocomb, deprecatingly. 

“ I assure you I did not,” I replied, “ though I 
hoped you would have a message for us.” 

“ It was not given to me,” she said meekly, 


A SHINING TIDE. 


37 


Then she added, “ Those not used to our ways are 
troubled, perhaps, with wandering thoughts during 
these silent hours.” 

” I was not to-day,” I replied with bowed head ; 

‘ I found a subject that held mine.” 

” Tm glad,” she said, her face kindling with 
pleasure. ” May I ask the nature of the truth that 
held thy meditations ?” 

” Perhaps *1 will tell you some time,” I answered 
hesitatingly ; then added reverently, ‘‘ It was of a 
very sacred nature.” 

” Thee’s right,” she said, gravely. ” Far be it 
from me to wish to look curiously upon thy soul’s 
communion.” 

For a moment I felt guilty that I should have so 
misled her, but reassured myself with the thought, 
” That which I dwelt upon was as sacred to me as 
my mother’s memory. ” 

I changed the subject, and sought by every 
means in my power to lead her to talk, for thus, I 
thought, I shall learn the full source of womanly life 
from which the peerless daughter has drawn her 
nature. 

The kind old lady needed but little incentive. 
Her thoughts flowed freely in a quaint, sweet ver- 
nacular that savored of the meeting-house. I was 
both interested and charmed, and as we rode at a 
quiet jog through the June sunlight felt that I was 
in the hands of a kindly fate that, in accordance 
with the old fairy tales, was bent on giving one poor 
mortal all he desired. 

At last, on a hillside sloping to the south, I saw 


38 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


the farm-house of my dream. Two tall honey lo- 
custs stood like faithful guardians on each side of 
the porch. An elm drooped over the farther end 
of the piazza. In the dooryard the foliage of two 
great silver poplar or aspen trees fluttered perpet- 
ually with its light sheen. A maple towered high 
behind the house, and a brook that ran not far away 
was shadowed by a weeping willow. Other trees 
were grouped here and there as if . Nature had 
planted them, and up one a wild grape-vine clam- 
bered, its unobtrusive blossoms filling the air with 
a fragrance more delicious even than that of the old- 
fashioned roses which abounded everywhere. 

“ Was there ever a sweeter nook?” I thought, 
as I stepped out on the wide horse-block and gave 
my hand to one who seemed the beautiful culmina- 
tion of the scene. Miss Adah needed but little 
assistance to alight, but she took my hand in hers, 
which she had ungloved as she approached her 
home. It was her mother’s soft, plump hand, 
but unmarked, as yet, by years of toil. I forgot 
we were such entire strangers, and under the im- 
pulse of my fancy clasped it a trifle warmly, at 
which she gave me a look of slight surprise, thus 
suggesting that there was no occasion for the act. 

“You are mistaken,” I mentally responded; 
“ there is more occasion than you imagine ; more 
than I may dare to tell you for a long time to 
come.” 

A lady who had been sitting on the piazza disap- 
peared within the house, and Adah followed her. 

“ Now, mother,” said Mr. Yocomb, “ since thee 


A SHINING TIDE. 


39 


did so little for friend Morton’s spiritual man, see 
what thee can do for the temporal. I’ll take the 
high seat this time, and can tell thee beforehand 
that there’ll be no silent meeting.” 

” Father may seem to thee a little irreverent, but 
he doesn’t mean to be. It’s his way, ’ ’ said his wife, 
with a smile. ” If thee’ll come with me I’ll show 
thee to a room where thee can rest and prepare for 
dinner. ” 

I followed her through a wide hall to a stairway 
that changed its mind when half-way up and turned 
in an opposite direction. ” It suggests the freedom 
and unconventionality of this home,” I thought, 
yielding to my mood to idealize everything. 

” This is thy room so long as thee’ll be pleased 
to stay with us,” she said, with a genial smile, and 
her ample form vanished from the doorway. 

I was glad to be alone. The shining tide of 
events was bearing me almost too swiftly. ‘ ‘ Can this 
be even the beginning of true love, since it runs so 
smoothly?” I queried. And yet it had all come 
about so simply and naturally, and for everything 
there was such adequate cause and rational explana- 
tion, that I assured myself that I had reason for 
self-congratulation rather than wonder. 

Having seen such a maiden, it would be strange 
indeed if I had not been struck by her beauty. 
With an hour on my hands, and thoughts that called 
no one master, it would have been stranger still if I 
had not been beguiled into a dream which, in my 
need, promised so much that I was now bent on its 
fulfilment. Kind Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb had but 


40 


A DAY OF FATE. 


carried out the teachings of their faith, and thus I 
was within the home of one who, developing under 
the influences of such a mother and such surround- 
ings, would have the power beyond most other 
women of creating another home. I naturally 
thought that here, in this lovely and sheltered spot, 
and under just the conditions that existed, might be 
perfected the simple, natural flower of womanhood 
that the necessities of my life and character required. 

I was too eager to prove my theories, and too 
strongly under the presentiment that my hour of 
destiny had come, to rest, and so gladly welcomed 
the tinkle of the dinner-bell. 

The apparent mistress of my fate had not dimin- 
ished her unconscious power by exchanging her 
Sunday-morning costume for a light muslin, 
that revealed more of her white throat than the 
strict canons of her sect would warrant perhaps, 
but none too much for maidenly modesty and artis- 
tic effect. Indeed, the gown harmonized with her 
somewhat worldly hat. I regarded these tendencies 
as good omens, however, felicitating myself with the 
thought that while her Quaker antecedents would 
always give to her manner and garb a beautiful sim- 
plicity, they would not trammel her taste with ar- 
bitrary custom. Though now more clearly satisfied 
that the beauty of her full face by no means equalled 
that of her profile, I was still far more than content 
with a perfection of features that sustained a rigor- 
ous scrutiny. 

“ Richard Morton,” said Mrs. Yocomb, ” let me 
make thee acquainted with Emily Warren.” 


A SmAr/JVG TIDE. 


4i 

I turned and bowed to a young woman, who 
seemed very colorless and unattractive to my brief 
glance, compared with the radiant creature opposite 
me. It would appear that I made no very marked 
impression on her either, for she chatted with little 
Zillah, who sat beyond her, and with Reuben 
across the table, making no effort to secure my at- 
tention. 

If Mrs. Yocomb’s powers as a spiritual provider 
were indicated by the table she had spread for us, 
the old meeting - house should be crowded every 
Sunday, on the bare possibility that she might speak. 
From the huge plate of roast-beef before her hus- 
band to the dainty dish of wild strawberries on the 
sideboard, all was appetizing, and although it was 
the day of my destiny, I found myself making a 
hearty meal. My beautiful vis-a-vis evidently had 
no thoughts of destiny, and proved that the rich 
blood which mantled her cheeks had an abundant 
and healthful source. I liked that too. “There 
is no sentimental nonsense about her,” I thought, 
“ and her views of life will never be dyspeptic.” 

I longed to hear her talk, and yet was pleased 
that she was not garrulous. Her father evidently 
thought that this was his hour and opportunity, and 
he seasoned the ample repast with not a little 
homely wit and humor, in which his wife would 
sometimes join, and again curb and deprecate. 

I began to grow disappointed that the daughter 
did not manifest some of her mother's quaint and 
genial good sense, or some sparkle and piquancy that 
would correspond to her father’s humor ; but the 


4 ^ 


A DAY OF FA TF. 


few remarks she made had reference chiefly to the 
people at the meeting, and verged toward small 
gossip. 

I broached several subjects which I thought might 
interest her, but could obtain little other response 
than “ Yes,” with a faint rising inflection. After 
one of these unsuccessful attempts I detected a 
slight, peculiar smile on Miss Warren’s face. It 
was a mischievous light in her dark eyes more than 
anything else. As she met my puzzled look it van- 
ished instantly, and she turned away. Everything 
in my training and calling stimulated alertness, and 
I knew that smile was at my expense. Why was 
she laughing at me ? Had she, by an intuition, 
divined my attitude of mind ? A plague on 
woman’s intuitions ! What man is safe a moment? 

But this could scarcely be, for the one toward 
whom my thoughts had flown for the last three 
hours, and on whom I had bent glances that did 
her royal homage, was serenely unconscious of my 
interest, or else supremely indifferent to it. She 
did not seem unfriendly, and I imagined that she 
harbored some curiosity in legard to me. My 
dress, manner, and some slight personal allusions 
secured far more attention than any abstract topic 
I could introduce. Her lips, however, were so 
exquisitely chiselled that they made, for the 
time, any utterance agreeable, and suggested that 
only tasteful thoughts and words could come from 
them. 

“ Now, mother,” said Mr. Yocomb, leaning back 
in his chair after finishing a generous cup of coffee, 


A SHINING TIDE. 


43 


“ I feel inclined to be a good Christian man. I 
have a broad charity for about every one except 
editors and politicians. I am a man of peace, and 
there can be no peace while these disturbers of the 
body politic thrive by setting people by the ears. 
I don’t disparage the fare, mother, that thee 
gives us at the meeting-house, that is, when thee 
does give us any, but I do take my affirmation that 
thee has prepared a gospel feast for us since we 
came home that has refreshed my inner man. As 
long as I am in the body, roast-beef and like creat- 
ure comforts are a means of grace to me. I am 
now in a contented frame of mind, and am quite 
disposed to be amiable. Emily Warren, I can even 
tolerate thy music — nay, let me speak the truth, 
I’d much like to hear some after my nap. Thee 
needn’t shake thy head at me, mother ; I’ve caught 
thee listening, and if thee brings me up before 
the meeting. I’ll tell on thee. Does thee realize, 
Emily Warren, that thee is leading us out of the 
strait and narrow way ?” 

“ I would be glad to lead you out of a 7iarrow 
way,” she replied, in a tone so quiet and yet so 
rich that I was inclined to believe I had not yet 
seen Miss Warren. Perhaps she saw that I was be- 
coming conscious of her existence, for I again de- 
tected the old mirthful light in her eyes. Was I or 
Mr. Yocomb’s remark the cause ? 

Who was Emily Warren anyway, and why must 
she be at the farm-house at a time when I so ear- 
nestly wished “the coast clear?” The perverse 
world at last was asserting its true self, and there 


44 


A DAY OF FATE, 


was promise of a disturbance in my shining tide. 
Moreover, I was provoked that the one remark of 
this Emily Warren had point to it, while my per- 
fect flower of womanhood had revealed nothing 
definitely save a good appetite, and that she had no 
premonitions that this was the day of her destiny. 


CHAPTEE IV. 


X 

REALITY. 

F ather,” said my fair ideal abruptly, as if 
a bright idea had just struck her, ” did thee 
notice that Friend Jones’s rockaway had been 
painted and all fixed up ? I guess he rather liked 
our keeping him there before all the meeting.” 

” Mother, I hope thee’ll be moved to preach 
about the charity that thinketh no evil, ’ ’ said her 
father gravely. 

The young girl tossed her head slightly as she 
asserted, ” Araminta Jones liked it anyway. Any 
one could see that.” 

“And any one need not have seen it also,” her 
mother said, with a pained look. Then she added, 
in a low aside, as we rose from the table, ” Thee 
certainly need not have spoken about thy friend’s 
folly.” 

The daughter apparently gave little heed to her 
mother’s rebuke, and a trivial remark a moment 
later proved that she was thinking of something 
else. 

“Adah, thee can entertain Richard Morton for 
a time, while mother attends to the things,” said 
her father. 

The alacrity with which she complied was flat- 
tering at least, and she led me out on the piazza 
that corresponded with my day-dream. 

” Zillah,” called Mrs. Yocomb to her little girl, 


46 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ do not bother Emily Warrem She may wish to 
be alone. Stay with Adah till I am through." 

“ Oh, mother, please, let me go with Emily 
Warren. I never have a good time with Adah." 

“There, rpother, let her have Her own way," 
said Adah pettishly. “ Emily Warren, thee 
shouldn’t pet her so if thee doesn’t want to be 
bothered by her. 

“ She does not bother me at all,’' said Miss 
Warren quietly. “ 1 like her." 

The little girl that had been ready to cry turned 
to her friend a radiant face that was eloquent with 
the undisguised affection of chifdhood. 

“ Zillah evidently likes you. Miss Warren,' 1 
said, “ and you have given the reason. You like 
her." 

“Not always' a sufficient reason for liking an- 
other," she answered. 

“ But a very good one," I urged. 

“ There are many better ones." 

“ What has reason to do with liking, anyway?" 
I asked. 

The mirthfulness I had noted before glimmered 
in her eyes for a moment, but she answered de- 
murely, “ I have seen instances that give much 
point to your question, but I cannot answer it," 
and with a slight bow and smile she took her hat 
from Zillah and went down the path with an easy, 
natural carriage, that nevertheless suggested the 
city and its pavements rather than the country. 

“What were you two talking about?" asked 
Adah, with a trace of vexed perplexity on her 


PEALITY. 


47 


brow, for I Imagined that my glance followed Miss 
Warren with some admiration and interest. 

“You must have heard all we said.“ 

“ Where was the point of it ?“ 

“ What I said hadn’t any point, so do not blame 
yourself for not seeing it. Don’t you like little Zil- 
lah She seems a nice, quiet child.’’ 

“ Certainly I like her — she’s my sister ; but I de- 
test children.’’ 

“ I can’t think that you were detested when you 
were a child. ’’ 

“ I don’t remember; I might have been,’’ she 
replied, with a slight shrug. 

“ Do you think that, as a child, you would enjoy 
being detested ?’’ 

“ Mother says it often isn’t good for us to have 
what we enjoy.’’ 

“ Undoubtedly your mother is right.” 

“ Well, I don’t see things in that way. If I like 
a thing I want it, and if I don’t like it I don’t want 
it, and won’t have it if I can help myself.” 

“Your views are not unusual,” I replied, turn- 
ing away to hide my contracting brow. “ I know 
of others who cherish like sentiments.” 

“ Well, I’m glad to meet with one who thinks as 
I do,” she said complacently, and plucking a half- 
blown rose that hung near her, she turned its petals 
sharply down as if they were plaits of a hem that 
she was about to stitch. 

“ Here is the first harmonic chord in the sweet 
congeniality of which I dreamed,” I inwardly 
groaned ; but I continued, “ How is it that you 


48 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


like Zillah as your sister, and not as a little 
girl?” 

” Oh, everybody likes their brothers and sisters 
after a fashion, but one doesn’t care to be bothered 
with them when they are little. Besides, children 
rumple and spoil my dress,” and she looked down 
at herself approvingly. 

“Now, there’s Emily Warren,” continued my 
“embodiment of June.” “Mother is beginning 
to hold her up to me as an example. Emily War- 
ren is half the time doing things that she doesn’t 
like, and I think she’s very foolish. She is telling 
Zillah a story over there under that tree. I don’t 
think one feels like telling stories right after dinner. ” 

“Yes, but see how much Zillah enjoys the 
story. 

“ Oh, of course she enjoys it. Why shouldn't 
she, if it’s a good one ?” 

“Is it not possible that Miss Warren finds a 
pleasure in giving pleasure ?” 

“ Well, if she does, that is her way of having a 
good time.” 

“ Don’t you think it’s a sweet, womanly way ?” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! Are you already smitten with 
Emily Warren’s sweet, womanly ways ?” 

I confess that I both blushed and frowned with 
annoyance and disappointment, but I answered 
lightly, “ If I were, would I be one among many 
victims?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she replied, with her 
slight characteristic shrug, which also intimated 
that she didn’t care. 


REALITY, 


49 


Miss Warren, I suppose, is a relative who is 
visiting you ?” 

“ Oh, no, she is only a music teacher who is 
boarding with us. Mother usually takes two or 
three boarders through the summer months, that is, 
if they are willing to put up with our ways.’' 

“ I suppose it’s correct to quote Scripture on 
Sunday afternoon. I’m sure your mother’s ways 
are those of pleasantness and peace. Do you think 
she would take me as a boarder ?” 

“ I fear she’ll think you would want too much 
city style. ” 

“ That is just what I wish to escape from.*’ 

“ I think city style is splendid.” 

‘‘ Why.^^” 

” Oh, the city is gay and full of life and people. 
I once took walks down Fifth Avenue when making 
a visit in town, and I would be perfectly happy if I 
could do so every day.” 

” Perfectly happy I wish I knew of something 
that would make me perfectly happy. Pardon me, 
I am only a business man, and can’t be expected to 
understand young ladies very well. I don’t under- 
stand why walking down Fifth Avenue daily would 
make you happy.” 

‘‘ Of course not. A man can’t understand a girl’s 
feelings in such matters.” 

” There is nothing in New York so beautiful as 
this June day in the country/’ 

“ Yes, it’s a nice day ; but father says we need 
more rain dreadfully.” 

‘‘You have spoiled your rose.” 


5 ° 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ There are plenty more/’ 

“ Don’t you like roses ?” 

“ Certainly. Who does not like roses ?” 

“ Let me give you another. See, here is one that 
has the hue of your cheeks. ” 

“ I suppose a city pallor like Emily Warren’s is 
more to your taste.” 

” I am wholly out of humor with the city, and I 
do not like that which is colorless and insipid. I 
think the rose I have just given you very beauti- 
ful.” 

Thanks for your roundabout compliment,” and 
she looked pleased. 

” I suppose your quiet life gives you much time 
for reading ?” 

” I can’t say that I enjoy father and mother’s 
books.” 

” I doubt whether I would myself ; but you have 
your own choice ?” 

” I read a story now and then ; but time slips 
away, and I don’t do much reading. We country 
girls make our own clothes, and you have no idea 
how much time it takes.” 

” Will you forgive me if I say that I think you 
make yours very prettily ?” 

Again she looked decidedly pleased ; and, as if 
to reward me, she fastened the rose on her bosom. 

” If she would only keep still,” I thought, ” and 
I could simply look at her as at a draped statue, I 
could endure another half-hour ; but every word she 
speaks is like the note of that catbird which broke 
the spell of harmony this morning. I have not yet 


REALITY. 


51 


seen a trace of ideality in her mind. Not a lov- 
able trait have I discovered beyond her remark- 
able beauty, which mocks one with its broken prom- 
ise. What is the controlling yet perverse princi- 
ple of her life which makes her seem an alien in 
her own home ? I am glad she does not use the 
plain language to me, since by nature she is not a 
Friend. 

Miss Yocomb interrupted my thoughts by say- 
ing, 

I thought my dress would be much too simple 
and country-like for your taste. I can see myself 
that Emily Warren’s dress has more style.” 

Resolving to explore a little, I said, 

” I know a great many men in town.” 

” Indeed !” she queried, with kindling interest. 

“Yes, and some of them are fine artists ; and the 
majority have cultivated their taste in various ways, 
both at home and abroad ; but I do not think many 
of them have any respect for what you mean by 
‘style.’ Shop-boys, clerks, and Fifth Avenue ex- 
quisites give their minds to the arbitrary mode of 
the hour ; but the men in the city who amount to 
anything rarely know whether a lady’s gown is of 
the latest cut. They do know, however, whether 
it is becoming and lady-like. The solid men of the 
city have a keen eye for beauty, and spend hun- 
dreds of thousands of dollars to enjoy its various 
phases. But half of the time they are anathematiz- 
ing mere style. I have seen fashion transform a 
pretty girl into as near an approach to a kangaroo 
as nature permitted. Now, I shall be so bold as to 


52 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


say that I think your costume this afternoon has far 
better qualities than mere style. It is becoming, 
and in keeping with the day and season, and I don’t 
care a fig whether it is the style or not.” 

My “ perfect flower of womanhood” grew radi- 
ant, and her lips parted in a smile of ineffable con- 
tent. In bitter disappointment I saw that my arti- 
fice had succeeded, and that I had touched the 
key-note of her being. To- my horror, she re- 
minded me of a pleased, purring kitten that had 
been stroked in the right direction. 

” Your judgment is hasty and harsh,” I charged 
myself, in half-angry accusation, loath to believe the 
truth. ” You do not know yet that a compliment 
to her dress is the most acceptable one that she can 
receive. She probably takes it as a tribute to her 
good taste, which is one of woman’s chief preroga- 
tives.” 

I resolved to explore farther, and continued, 

” A lady’s dress is like the binding of a book — it 
ought to be suggestive of her character. Indeed, 
she can make it a tasteful expression of herself. 
Our eye is often attracted or repelled by a book’s 
binding. When it has been made with a fine taste, 
so that it harmonizes with the subject under consid- 
eration, we are justly pleased ; but neither you nor 
I believe in the people who value books for the sake 
of their covers only. Beauty and richness of 
thought, treasures of varied truth, sparkling wit, 
droll humor, or downright earnestness are the qual- 
ities in books that hold our esteem. A book must 
have a soul and life of its own as truly as you or I ; 


REALITY. 


S3 


and the costliest materials, the wealth of a king- 
dom, cannot make a true book any more than a 
perfect costume and the most exquisite combina- 
tion of flesh and blood can make a true woman.” 
(I wondered if she were listening to me ; for her 
face was taking on an absent look. Conscious that 
my homily was growing rather long, I concluded.) 
” The book that reveals something new, or puts old 
truths in new and interesting lights — the book that 
makes us wiser, that cheers, encourages, comforts, 
amuses, and makes a man forget his stupid, miser- 
able self, is the book we tie to. And so a man 
might well wish himself knotted to a woman who 
could do as much for him, and he would naturally 
be pleased to have her outward garb correspond 
with her spiritual beauty and worth.” 

My fair ideal had also reached a momentous con- 
clusion, for she said, with the emphasis of a final 
decision, 

” I won’t cut that dress after Emily Warren’s 
pattern. I’ll cut it to suit myself.” 

I had been falling from a seventh heaven of hope 
for some time, but at this moment I struck reality 
with a thump that almost made me sick and giddy. 
The expression of my face reminded her of the ir- 
relevancy of her remark, and she blushed slightly, 
but laughed it off, saying, 

” Pardon me, that I followed my own thoughts 
for a moment rather than yours. These matters, 
no doubt, seem mere trifles to you gentlemen, but 
they are weighty questions to us girls who have to 
make a little go a great way. Won’t you, please, 


54 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


repeat what you said about that lady who wrote a 
book for the sake of its binding ? I think it’s a 
pretty idea.” 

I was so incensed that I answered as I should 
not have done. ” She was remarkably successful. 
Every one looked at the binding, but were soon 
satisfied to look no farther.” 

I was both glad and vexed that she did not catch 
my meaning, for she said, with a smile, 

” It would make a pretty ornament.” 

” It would not be to my taste,” I replied 
briefly. ” The beautiful binding would hold out 
the promise of a good book, which, not being fub 
filled, would be tantalizing.” 

” Do you know the lady well ?” 

” Yes, I fear I do.” 

“How strangely you look at me !” 

” Excuse me,” I said, starting. ” I fear I fol- 
lowed your example and was thinking of some- 
thing else.” 

But I let what I was thinking about slip out. 

” It was indeed a revelation. My thoughts will 
not interest you, I fear. The experience of a man 
who saw a mirage in the desert came into my 
mind.” 

” I don’t see what put that into your head.” 

” Nor do I, now. The world appears to me en- 
tirely matter-of-fact.” 

” I’m glad to hear you say that. Mother is al- 
ways talking to me about spiritual meanings, and 
all that. Now I agree with you. Things are just 
what they are. Some we like, and some we don’t 


REALITY, 


55 


like. What more is there to say about them ? I 
think people are very foolish if they bother them- 
selves over things or people they don’t like. I 
hope mother will take you to board, for I would 
like to have some one in the house who looks at 
things as I do.” 

” Thanks. Woman’s intuition is indeed uner- 
ring.” 

“ I declare, there comes Silas Jones with his new 
top-buggy. You won’t mind his making one of our 
party, will you ?” 

” I think I will go to my room and rest awhile, 
and thus I shall not be that chief of this world’s 
evils — the odious third party.” And I rose deci- 
sively. 

“I’d rather you wouldn’t go,” she said. “ I 
don’t care specially for him, and he does not talk 
half so nicely as you do. You needn’t go on his 
account. Indeed, I like to have half a dozen gen- 
tlemen around me.” 

“You are delightfully frank.” 

“Yes, I usually say what I think.” 

“ And do as you please,” I added. 

“Certainly. Why shouldn’t I when I can? 
Don’t you ?” 

“ But I come from the wicked city.” 

“ So does Emily Warren.” 

“ Is she wicked ?’ ’ 

“ I don’t know ; she keeps it to herself if she is ; 
and, by the way, she is very quiet. I can never 
get her to talk much about herself. She appears 
so good that mother is beginning to quote her as an 


A DAY OF FATE. 


56 

example, and that, you know, always makes one 
detest a person. I think there is some mystery 
about her. I’m sorry you will go, for I’ve lots of 
questions I’d like to ask you now we are ac* 
quainted. ” 

“ Pardon me ; I’m not strong, and must have a 
rest. Silas Jones will answer just as well.” 

” Not quite,” she said softly, with a smile de- 
signed to be bewitching. 

As I passed up the hall I heard her say, ” Silas 
Jones, I’m pleased to see thee.” 

I threw myself on the lounge in my room in an- 
gry disgust. 

” Oh, Nature !” I exclaimed, ” what excuse have 
you for such perverseness ? By every law of proba- 
bility — by the ordinary sequence of cause and effect 
— this girl should have been what I fancied her to 
be. This, then, forsooth, is the day of my fate ! It 
would be the day of doom did some malicious power 
chain me to this brainless, soulless, heartless creat- 
ure. What possessed Nature to make such a blun- 
der, to begin so fairly and yet reach such a lame 
and impotent conclusion? To the eye the girl is 
the fair and proper outcome of this home and beau- 
tiful country life. In reality she is a flat contradic- 
tion to it all, reversing in her own character the 
native traits and acquired graces of her father and 
mother. 

” As if controlled and carried forward by a hid- 
den and malign power, she goes steadily against 
her surrounding influences that, like the winds of 
heaven, might have wafted her toward all that is 



REALITY. 


57 


good and true. Is not sweet, quaint Mrs. Yo- 
comb her mother ? Is not the genial, hearty old 
gentleman her father ? Has she not developed 
among scenes that should ennoble her nature, and 
enrich her mind with ideality ? There is Oriental 
simplicity and largeness in her parents’ faith. Abra- 
ham, sitting at the door of his tent, could scarcely 
have done better. Hers is the simplicity of silli- 
ness, which reveals what a woman of sense, though 
no better than herself, would not speak of. It is 
exasperating to think that her eye and fingers arc 
endowed with a sense of harmony and beauty, so 
that she can cut a gown and adorn her lovely per- 
son to perfection, and yet be so idiotic as to make 
a spectacle of herself in her real womanhood. As 
far as I can make out. Nature is more to blame than 
the girl. There is not a bat blinking in the sun- 
light more blind than she to every natural beauty of 
this June day ; and yet her eyes are microscopic, 
and she sees a host of little things not worth see- 
ing. A true womanly moral nature seems never to 
have been infused into her being. She detests 
children, her little sister shrinks from her ; she 
speaks and surmises evil of the absent ; to strut 
down Fifth Avenue in finery, to which she has given 
her whole soul, is her ideal of happiness — there, 
stop ! She is the daughter of my kind host and 
hostess. The mystery of this world’s evil is sadly 
exemplified in her defective character, from which 
sweet, true womanliness was left out. I should 
pity her, and treat her as if she were deformed. 
Poor Mrs. Yocomb ! Even mother-love cannot 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


blind her to the truth that her fair daughter is c 
misshapen creature." After a little, I added weari- 
ly, "I wish I had never seen her ; I am the worse 
for this day's mirage," and I closed my eyes in dull 
apathy. 






CHAPTER V. 


MUTUAL DISCOVERIES. 

J MUST have slept for an hour or more, for 
when I awoke I saw through the window- lat- 
tice that the sun was declining in the west. Sleep 
had again proved better than all philosophy or med- 
icine, for it had refreshed me and given something 
of the morning’s elasticity. 

I naturally indulged in a brief retrospect, con- 
scious that while nothing had happened, since the 
croaking printer’s remark, that I would care to 
print in the paper, experiences had occurred that 
touched me closer than would the news that all the 
Malays of Asia were running amuck. I felt as if 
thrown back on to my old life and work in precisely 
their old form. My expedition into the country 
and romance had been disappointing. It is true I 
had found rest and sleep, and for these I was grate- 
ful, “ and with these staunch allies I can go on 
with my work, which I now believe is the best thing 
the world has for me. I shall go back to it to- 
morrow, well content, after this day’s experience, 
to make it my mistress. The bare possibility of 
being yoked to such a woman as in fancy I have 
wooed and won to-day makes me shiver with inex- 
pressible dread. Her obtuseness, combined with 
her microscopic surveillance, would drive me to the 
nearest madhouse I could find. The whole busi- 
ngs of love-making and marriage involves too much 


6o 


J DAY OF FA TE. 


risk to a man who, like myself, must use his wits 
as a sword to carve his fortunes. I’ve fought my 
way up alone so far, and may as well remain a free 
lance. The wealthy, and those who are content to 
plod, can go through life with a woman hanging on 
their arm. Rich I shall never be, and I’ll die be- 
fore I’ll plod. My place is in the midst of the 
world’s arena, where the forces that shall make the 
future are contending, and I propose to be an ap- 
preciable part of those forces. I shall go back the 
wiser and stronger for this day’s folly, and infi- 
nitely better for its rest,” and I marched down 
the moody stairway, feeling that I was not yet a 
crushed and broken man, and cherishing also a 
secret complacency that I had at last outgrown my 
leanings toward sentimentality. 

As I approached the door of the' wide, low- 
browed parlor, I saw Miss Warren reading a paper ; 
a second later and my heart gave a bound : it was 
the journal of which I was the night editor, and I 
greeted its familiar aspect as the face of an old 
friend in a foreign land. It was undoubtedly the 
number that had gone to press the night I had bro- 
ken down, and I almost hoped to see some marks 
of the catastrophe in its columns. How could I 
beguile the coveted sheet from Miss Warren’s hands 
and steal away to a half-hour’s seclusion ? 

“What! Miss Warren,” I exclaimed, “read- 
ing a newspaper on Sunday ?” . 

She looked at me a moment before replying, and 
then asked, 

“ Do you believe in a Providence ?” 


MUTUAL DISCOVERIES. 


6i 


Thrown off my guard by the unexpected ques- 
tion, I answered, 

“ Assuredly ; I am not quite ready to admit that 
I am a fool, even after all that has happened.” 

There was laughter in her eyes at once, but she 
asked innocently, 

” What has happened ?” 

I suppose my color rose a little, but I replied 
carelessly, “ I have made some heavy blunders of 
late. You are adroit in stealing away from a weak 
position under a fire of questions, but your strata- 
gem shall not succeed,” I continued severely. 
“ How can you explain the fact, too patent to be 
concealed, that herje in good Mrs. Yocomb’s house, 
and on a Sunday afternoon, you are reading a secu- 
lar newspaper ?” 

You have explained my conduct yourself,” she 
said, assuming a fine surprise. 

I 

‘‘You, and most satisfactorily. You said you 
believed in a Providence. I have merely been read- 
ing what he has done, or what he has permitted 
within the last twenty-four hours.” 

I looked around for a chair, and sat down “ struck 
all of a heap,” as the rural vernacular has it. 

“Is that yOur definition of news?” I ventured 
at last. 

“ I’m not a dictionary. That’s the definition of 
what I’ve. been reading this afternoon.” 

“ Miss Warren, you may score one against me.” 

The mischievous light was in her eyes, but sh^ 
said suavely. 


62 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ Oh, no, you shall have another chance. I shall 
begin by showing mercy, for I may need it, and I 
see that you can be severe.” 

Well, please, let me take breath and rally my 
shattered wits before I make another advance. I 
understand you, then, that you regard newspapers 
as good Sunday reading ?” 

“You prove your ability, Mr. Morton, by draw- 
ing a vast conclusion from a small and ill-defined 
premise. I don't recall making any such state- 
ment.” 

“ Pardon me, you are at disadvantage now. I 
ask for no better premise than your own action ; 
for you are one, I think, who would do only what 
you thought right.” 

“A palpable hit. I'm glad I showed you 
mercy. Still it does not follow that because I read 
a newspaper, all newspapers are good Sunday read- 
ing. Indeed, there is much in this paper that is 
not good reading for Monday or any other day.” 

“ Ah !” I exclaimed, looking grave, “ then why 
do you read it ?” 

“ I have not. A newspaper is like the world of 
which it is a brief record — full of good and evil. 
In either case, if one does not like the evil, it can 
be left alone.” 

“ Which do you think predominates in that 
paper .^” 

“ Oh, the good, in the main. There is an abun- 
dance of evil, too, but it is rather in the frank and 
undisguised record of the evil in the world. It 
does not seem to have got into the paper's blood 


MUTUAL DISCOVERIES. 63 

and poisoned its whole life. It is easily skipped if 
one is so inclined. There are some journals in 
which the evil cannot be skipped. From the lead- 
ing editorial to the obscurest advertisement, one 
stumbles on it everywhere. They are like certain 
regions in the South, in which there is no escape 
from the snakes and malaria. Now there are low 
places in this paper, but there is high ground also, 
where the air is good and wholesome, and where 
the outlook on the world is wide. That is the rea. 
son I take it.” 

I was not aware that many young ladies looked, 
in journals of this character, beyond the record of 
deaths and marriages.” 

We studied ancient history. Is it odd that we 
should have a faint desire to know what Americans 
are doing, as well as what the Babylonians did ?” 

“Oh, I do not decry your course as irrational. 
It seems rather — rather — ” 

“ Rather too rational for a young lady.” 

“ I did not say that ; but here is my excuse,” and 
I took from a table near, a periodical entitled “ The 
Young Lady’s Own Weekly,” addressed to Miss 
Adah Yocomb. 

“ Have not young men their own weeklies also — 
which of the two classes are the more weakly?” 

“ Ahem ! I decline to pursue this phase of the 
subject any farther. To return to our premise, this 
journal,” and I laid my hand on the old paper ca- 
ressingly. “ It so happens that I read it also, and 
thus learn that we have had many thoughts in com- 
mon ; though, no doubt, we would differ on some 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


64 

of the questions discussed in it. What do you think 
of its politics ?” 

I think they are often very bad.” 

That’s delightfully frank,” I said, sitting back 
in my chair a little stiffly. “ I think they are very 
good — at any rate they are mine.” 

“ Perhaps that is the reason they are so good ?” 

” Now, pardon me if I, too, am a trifle plain. 
Do you consider yourself as competent to form an 
opinion concerning politics as gray-headed students 
of affairs ?” 

” Oh, certainly not ; but do I understand that 
you accept, unquestioningly, the politics of the 
paper you read ?” 

“Far from it : rather that the politics of this 
paper commend themselves to my judgment.” 

” And you think ‘ judgment ’ an article not 
among a young woman’s possessions ?” 

” Miss Warren, you may think what you please 
.of the politics of this paper. But how comes it 
that you think about them at all? I’m sure that 
they interest but comparatively few young la- 
dies.” 

Her face suddenly became very grave and sad, 
and a moment later she turned away her eyes that 
were full of tears. ” I wish you hadn’t asked that 
question ; but I will explain my seeming weak- 
ness,” she said, in a low, faltering voice. ” I lost 
rny only brother in the war — I was scarcely more 
than a child ; but I can see him now — my very 
ideal of brave, loyal manhood. Should I not love 
the country for which 


MUTUAL DISCOVERIES. 


6 $ 


Politics ! a word that men so often utter with 
contempt, has been hallowed to me since that mo- 
ment. 

She looked away for a moment, swiftly pressed 
her handkerchief to her eyes, then turning toward 
me said, with a smile, and in her former tones, 

“ Forgive me ! I’ve been a bit lonely and blue 
this afternoon, for the day has reminded me of the 
past. I won’t be weak and womanish any more. I 
think some political questions interest a great many 
women deeply. It must be so. We don’t dote on 
scrambling politicians ; but a man as a true states- 
man makes a grand figure.” 

I was not thinking of statecraft or the crafts- 
men. 

” By Jove !” I exclaimed mentally, ” this girl 
is more beautiful than my ‘ perfect flower of woman- 
hood.’ Night-owl that I am, I am just gaining the 
power to see her clearly as the sun declines.” 

I know my face was full of honest sympathy as I 
said, gently and reverently, 

” Tell me more of your brother. The thoughts 
of such men make me better.” 

She shot a quick, grateful glance, looked down, 
trembled, shook her head as she faltered, 

” I cannot — please don’t ; speak of something 
far removed.” 

The feeling was so deep, and yet so strongly 
curbed, that its repression affected me more deeply 
than could its manifestation. Her sorrow became 
a veiled and sacred mystery of which I could never 
be wholly unconscious again ; and I felt that how, 


66 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


ever strong and brilliant she might prove in our 
subsequent talk, I should ever see, back of all, the 
tender-hearted, sensitive woman. 

“ Please forgive me. I was cruelly thoughtless,” 
I said, in a voice that trembled slightly. Then, 
catching up the paper, I continued, with attempted 
lightness, ” We have found this journal, that we 
mutually read, a fruitful theme. What do you 
think of its literary reviews ?” 

Mirth and tears struggled for the mastery in her 
eyes ; but she answered, with a voice that had re- 
gained its clear, bell-like tone, 

” In some I have seen indisputable proof of im- 
partiality and freedom from prejudice.” 

” In what did that proof consist ?” 

” In the evident fact that the reviewer had not 
read the book. 

“You are severe,” I said, coloring slightly. 

She looked at me with a little surprise, but con- 
tinued, 

“ That does not happen very often. It is clear 
that there are several contributors to this depart- 
ment, and I have come to look for the opinions of 
one of them with much interest. I am sure of a 
careful and appreciative estimate of a book from his 
point of view. His one fault appears to be that he 
sees everything from one perspective, and does not 
realize that the same thing may strike other intelli- 
gent people very differently. But he’s a fixed and 
certain quantity, and a good point to measure 
from. I like him because he is so sincere. He 
sits down to a book as a true scientist does to a 


MUTUAL DISCOVERIES. 


67 


phase of nature, to really learn what there is in it, 
and not merely to display a little learning, sarcasm, 
or smartness. I always feel sure that I know some- 
thing about a book after reading one of his reviews, 
and also whether I could afford to spend a part of 
my limited time in reading it.’’ 

“ I have singled out the same reviewer, and think 
your estimate correct. On another occasion, when 
we have more time, I am going to ask how you like 
the musical critic’s opinions ; for on that subject 
you would be at home.” 

” What makes you think so ?” 

” Miss Yocomb told me that you taught music 
in the city, and music is about the only form of 
recreation for which I have taken time in my busy 
life. There are many things concerning the musi- 
cal tendencies of the day that I would like to ask 
you about. But I hear the clatter of the supper 
dishes. What do you think of the editorial page, 
and its moral tendencies ? That is a good Sunday 
theme.” 

” There is evidence of much ability, but there is 
a lack of earnestness and definite purpose. The 
paper is newsy and bright, and, in the main, whole- 
some. It reflects public opinion fairly and honest- 
ly, but does little to shape it. It is often spicily 
controversial, sometimes tiresomely so. I do a 
good deal of skipping in that line. I wish its quar- 
rels resulted more from efforts to right some wrong ; 
and there is so much evil in our city, both in high 
and low places, that ought to be fought to the death. 
The editor has exceptional opportunities, and 


68 


A DAY OF FA 7 E. 


might be the knight-errant of our age. If in ear- 
nest, and on the right side, he can forge a weapon 
out of public opinion that few evils could resist. 
And he is in just the position to discover these drag- 
ons, and drive them from their hiding-places. If, 
for instance, the clever paragraphist in this column, 
whose province, it seems, is to comment at the last 
moment on the events of the day, were as desirous 
of saying true, strong, earnest words, as bright ^ 
and prophetic ones, in which the news of the^mor- 
row is also outlined — why, Mr. Morton, what is the 
matter ?’ 

“ Are you a witch ?” 

She looked at me a moment, blushed deeply, and 
asked hesitatingly, 

“ Are — are you the paragraphist 

“Yes,” I said, with a burst of laughter, “as 
truly as yours is the only witchcraft in which I be- 
lieve — that of brains.” Then putting my finger on 
my lips, I added, sotto voce^ “ Don’t betray me. 
Mr. Yocomb would set all his dogs on me if he 
knew I were an editor, and I don’t wish to go 
yet. ” 

“ What have I been saying !” she exclaimed, 
with an appalled look. 

“ Lots of clever things. I never got so many 
good hints in the same time before.” 

“ It wasn’t fair in you, to lead me on in the 
dark.” 

Oh, there wasn’t any ‘dark,’ I assure you. 
Your words were coruscations. Never was the old 
journal so lighted up before.” 


MUTUAL DISCOVERIES. 


69 


There v/ere both perplexity and annoyance in her 
face as she looked dubiously at me. Instantly be- 
coming grave, I stepped to her side and took her 
hand, as I said, with the strongest emphasis, 

“ Miss Warren, I thank you. I have caught a 
glimpse of my work and calling through the eyes of 
a true, refined, and, permit me to add, a gifted 
woman. I think I shall be the better for it, but 
will make no professions. If I’m capable of im- 
provement this column will show it.^’ 

Her hand trembled in mine as she looked away 
and said, 

“You are capable of sympathy.” 

Then she went hastily to the piano. 

Before she could play beyond a bar or two, little 
Zillah bounded in, exclaiming, 

“ Emily Warren, mother asks if thee and Rich- 
ard Morton will come out to tea ?” 

“ I may be in error, but is not a piano one of the 
worldly vanities ?’' I asked, as she turned to com- 
ply. “ I did not expect to see one here.” 

“ Mrs. Yocomb kindly took this in with me. I 
could scarcely live without one, so you see I carry 
the shop with me everywhere, and am so linked to 
my business that I can never be above it.” 

“ I hope not, but you carry the business up with 
you. The shop may be, and ought to be, thor- 
oughly respectable. It is the narrow, mercenary 
spirit of the shop that is detestable. If you had 
that, you would leave your piano in New York, 
since here it would have no money value.” 

'‘You take a nice view of it.” 


70 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ Is it not the true view ?” 

In mock surprise she answered, 

“ Mr. Morton, I’m from New York. Did you 
«ver meet a lady from that city who was not all 
that the poets claimed for womanhood ?” 


CHAPTER VI. 


QUAKER TEA. 


R ichard MORTON/’ said Mrs. Yocomb 
genially, “ thee seems listening very in- 
tently to something Emily Warren is saying, so 
thee may take that seat beside her.” 

” Richard Morton,” said Mr. Yocomb from the 
head of the table, ” has thee made the acquaint- 
ance of Emily Warren ?'* 

” No, sir, but I am making it.” 

” So am I, and she has been here a week.” 

” I should esteem that one of the highest of com- 
pliments,” I said ; then turning to her, I added, 
in an aside, ” you found me out in half an hour.” 

” Am I such a sphinx.^” she asked Mr. Yocomb 
with a smile ; while to me she said, in a low tone, 
“You are mistaken. You have had something to 
say to me almost daily for a year or more.” 

“ I am not acquainted with the article, and so 
can’t give an opinion,” Mr. Yocomb replied, with a 
humorous twinkle in his eye. “ If the resemblance 
is close, so much the better for the sphinxes.” 

“ Now, father, thee isn’t a young man that thee 
should be complimenting the girls,” his wife re- 
marked. 

“ I’ve persuaded Silas Jones to stay,” said Adah, 
entering. 

“ Silas Jones, I hope thee and thy parents are 


72 


A DAY OF FA TF. 


well,’' Mrs. Yocomb answered, with a courtesy 
somewhat constrained. “ Will thee take that seat 
by Adah ? Let me make thee acquainted with 
Richard Morton and Emily Warren.” 

We bowed, but I turned instantly to Miss War- 
ren and said, 

” Do you note how delightfully Mrs. Yocomb 
unites our names ? I take it as an omen that we may 
become friends in spite of my shortcomings. You 
should have been named first in the order of merit.” 

” Mrs. Yocomb rarely makes mistakes,” she re- 
plied. 

” That confirms my omen.” 

” Omens are often ominous.” 

” I’m prepared for the best.” 

” Hush !” and she bowed her head in the grace 
customary before meals in this house. 

I had noted that Mr. Yocomb’s bow to Mr. Jones 
was slightly formal also. Remembering the hospi- 
table traits of my host and hostess, I concluded that 
the young man was not exactly to their taste. In- 
deed, a certain jauntiness in dress that verged tow- 
ard flashiness would not naturally predispose them 
in his favor. But Adah, although disclaiming any 
special interest in him, seemed pleased with his at- 
tentions. She was not so absorbed, however, but 
that she had an eye for me, and expected my hom- 
age also. She apparently felt that she had made a 
very favorable impression on me, and that we were 
congenial spirits. During the half hour that follow- 
ed I felt rather than saw that this fact amused 
Miss Warren exceedingly. 


A QUAKER TEA. 


73 


For a few moments we sat in silence, but I fear 
my grace was as graceless as my morning worship 
had been. Miss Warren’s manner was reverent. 
Were her thoughts also wandering? and whither? 
She certainly held mine, and by a constraint that 
was not unwelcome. 

When she lifted her expressive eyes I concluded 
that she had done better than merely comply with 
a religious custom. 

“ The spirit of this home has infected you,” I 
said. 

” It might be well for you also to catch the in- 
fection.” 

” I know it would be well for me, and wish to 
expose myself to it to the utmost. You are the 
only obstacle I fear.” 

” 1 ?” 

“Yes. I will explain after supper.” 

“To explain that ypu have good cause to ask 
for time.” 

“ Richard Morton, does thee like much sugar in 
thy tea?” Mrs. Yocomb asked. 

“ No — yes, none at all, if you please.” 

My hostess looked at me a little blankly, and 
Adah and Silas Jones giggled. 

“ A glass of milk will help us both out of our 
dilemma,” I said, with a laugh. 

“An editor should be able to think of two 
things at once,” Miss Warren remarked, in a low 
aside. 

“ That depends on the subject of his thoughts. 
But don’t breathe that word here, or I’m undone ' 


74 


A DAY OP PA TP. 


Richard Morton,” said Mr. Yocomb, ” I hope 
thee feels the better for mother’s ministrations 
since we came home. Will thee pass thy plate for 
some more of the same kind ?” 

“ Mrs. Yocomb has done me good ever since I 
followed her into the meeting-house,” I replied. 
” I am indeed the better for her dinner, and I 
ought to be. I feared you would all be aghast at 
the havoc 1 made. But it is your kindness and 
hospitality that have done me the most good. I 
would not have believed yesterday afternoon that 
my fortunes could have taken so favorable a turn.” 

“Why, what was the matter with you then?” 
asked Adah, with wide-eyed curiosity ; and little 
Zillah looked at me with a pitying and puzzled 
glance. 

“ A common complaint in the city. I was com- 
mitting suicide, and yesterday became conscious of 
the fact.” 

“ Mr. Morton must have hit on an agreeable 
method of suicide, since he could commit it uncon- 
sciously,” Miss Warren remarked mischievously. 

“ I read in Emily Warren’s newspaper this after- 
noon,” said Silas Jones, with awkward malice, “ of 
a young fellow who got a girl to marry him by pre- 
tending to commit suicide. He didn’t hurt him- 
self much though.” 

The incident amused Adah exceedingly, and I 
saw that Miss Warren’s eyes were full of laughter. 
Assuming a shocked expression, I said, 

“ I am surprised that Miss Warren takes a paper 
so full of insidious evil.” Then, with the deepest 


A QUAKER TEA. 


75 


gravity, I remarked to Silas Jones, “ I have re- 
cently been informed, sir, on good authority, that 
each one instinctively finds and reads in a news- 
paper that which he likes or needs. I sincerely 
hope, my dear sir, that the example you have 
quoted will not lead you to adopt a like method.” 

Adah laughed openly at her suitor’s confusion, 
and the mouths of the others were twitching. 
With the complexion of the rose at his button-hole 
Mr. Jones said, a trifle vindictively, 

‘‘I thought the paragraph might refer to you, 
sir, you seem so slightly hurt.” 

” I don’t like to contradict you, but I cannot be 
this ingenious youth whose matrimonial enterprise 
so deeply interests you, since I am not married, and 
I was hurt severely.” 

‘‘Thee had been overworking,” said Mrs. Yo- 
comb kindly. 

” Working foolishly rather. I thought I^had 
broken down, but sleep and your kindness have so 
revived me that I scarcely know myself. Are you 
accustomed to take in tramps from New York ?” 

” That depends somewhat upon the tramps. I 
think the right leadings are given us.” 

‘‘ If good leadings constitute a Friend, I am one 
to-day, for I have been led to your home.” 

” Now I’m moved to preach a little,” said Mr. 
Yocomb. ” Richard Morton, does thee realize the 
sin and folly of overwork ? If thee works for thy- 
self it is folly. If thee toils for the good of the 
world, and art able to do the world any good, it is 
sin ; if there are loved ones dependent on thee, 


76 


A DA V OF FA TE. 


thee may do them a wrong for which there is no 
remedy. Thee looks to me like a man who has 
been overdoing.” 

” Unfortunately there is no one dependent on 
me, and I fear I have not had the world’s welfare 
very greatly at heart. I have learned that I was 
becoming my own worst enemy, and so must plead 
guilty of folly.” 

” Well, thee doesn’t look as- if thee had sinned 
away thy day of grace yet. If thee’ll take roast- 
beef and common-sense as thy medicine, thee’ll see 
my years and vigor. 

” Richard Morton,” said his wife, with a gentle 
gravity, ” never let any one make thee believe that 
thee has sinned away thy day of grace.” 

” Mother, thee’s very weak on the ‘ terrors of 
the law. ’ Thee’s always for coaxing the transgress- 
ors out of the broad road. Thee’s latitudinarian ; 
now.*^ 

” And thee’s litTe queer, father.” 

” Emily Warren, am I queer?” 

“You are very sound and sensible in your ad- 
vice to Mr. Morto".,” she replied. ” One may 
very easily sin against life and health beyond the 
point of remedy. I should judge from Mr. Morton’s 
words that he is in danger.” 

” Now, mother, thee sees that Emil}^ Warren 
believes in the terrors of the law.” 

” Thee woulan’t be a very good one at enforcing 
them, Emily,” said Mrs. Yocomb, nodding her 
head smilingly toward her favorite. 

“The trouble is,” said Miss Warren a little 


A QUAKER TEA. 


77 


sadly, ‘ ‘ that some laws enforce themselves. I 
know of so many worn-out people in New York, 
both men and women, that I wish that Mr. Yo- 
comb’s words were printed at the head of all our 
leading newspapers.” 

” Yes,” said Mr. Yocomb, ” if editors and news- 
paper writers were only as eager to quiet the peo- 
ple as they are to keep up the hubbub of the world, 
they might make their calling a useful one. It al- 
most takes away my breath to read some of our 
great journals. ” 

” Do you not think laziness the one pre-eminent 
vice of the world ?” I asked. 

” Not of native-born Americans. I think rest- 
lessness, nervous activity, is the vice of our age. I 
am out of the whirl, and can see it all the more 
clearly. Thee admits that thy city life was killing 
thee — I know it would kill me in a month.” 

” I would like to have a chance to be killed by 
it,” said Adah, with a sigh. 

” Thy absence would be fatal to some in the 
country,” I heard Silas Jones remark, and with 
a look designed to be very reproachful. 

” Don’t tell me that. Melissa Bunting would 
soon console thee.” 

” Thee stands city life quite well, Emily,” said 
Mrs. Yocomb. 

“Yes, better than I once did. I am learning 
how to live there and still enjoy a little of your 
quiet ; but were it not for my long summers in the 
country I fear it would go hard with me also.” 

“You have suggested my remedy,” I said. 


78 


A DA F OF FA TE. 


“ My business does not permit much chance foi 
rest, unless it is taken resolutely ; and, like many 
other sinners, I have great reforms in contempla- 
tion. ” 

“ It must be a dreadful business that came so 
near killing you,” Adah remarked, looking at me 
curiously. ” What can it be T' 

Mrs. Yocomb glanced at her daughter reprov- 
ingly, but Miss Warren’s eyes were dancing, and I 
saw she was enjoying my rather blank look im- 
mensely. 

I decided, however, that honesty and audacity 
would be my best allies, and at the same time I 
hoped to punish Adah a little through her curios- 
ity. 

“ I must admit that it is a dreadful business. 
Deeds of darkness occupy much of my time ; and 
when good, honest men, like your father, are 
asleep, my brain and hand are busiest. Now you 
see what a suspicious character your father and 
mother have harbored in their unquestioning hos- 
pitality. ” 

The young lady looked at me with a thoroughly 
perplexed and half-alarmed expression. 

” My gracious !” she exclaimed. ” What do you 
do ?” 

“ You do not look as if ‘ inclined to mercy,’ ’’ 
I replied. “ Mr. Yocomb and Miss Warren believe 
in the terrors of the law, so I have decided to make 
a full confession to Mrs. Yocomb after supper. I 
think that I am one of the ‘ transgressors ’ that she 
could ‘ coax.’ ” 


A QUAKER TEA. 


79 


After a momentary and puzzled glance at my 
laughing critic, Mrs. Yocomb said, 

“ Emily Warren knows thy secret.” 

“ So you have told Emily Warren, but will not 
tell us,” Adah complained, in a piqued tone and 
manner. 

“ Indeed, you are mistaken. Miss Warren found 
me out by intuition. I am learning that there is 
no occasion to tell her things : she sees them.” 

Mr. Yocomb’s face wore a decidedly puzzled 
look, and contained also the suggestion of an apt 
guess. 

“ Well,” he said, ^‘thee has shown the shrewd- 
ness of an editor, and a Yankee one at that.” 

Miss Warren now laughed outright. 

“ Thee thinks,” he continued, “ that if thee gets 
mother on thy side thee’s safe. I guess Til adopt 
a common editorial policy, and sit safely on the 
fence till I hear what mother says to thy confes- 
sion.” 

Are you laughing at me ?” I asked Miss War- 
ren, with an injured air. 

To think that one of your calling should have 
got into such a dilemma !” she said, in a low tone. 
‘‘ It's delicious !” 

‘‘ My cheeks may become bronzed but never bra- 
zen, Miss Warren. My guileiessness should touch 
your sympathies.” 

“ Well,” said Adah, with rather a spiteful look 
at Miss Warren, “ Tm glad I’ve not got a prying 
disposition. I talked with you half the afternoon 
and did not find you out.” 


Even Mrs. Yocomb laughed at this. 

“Now, Miss Warren,” I said, turning to hef 
with a triumphant look, “ I hope you feel properly 
.quenched.” 

“Is there any record of your crime, or misfor- 
tune, or whatever it may be, in Miss Warren’s 
newspaper?” asked Silas Jones, with a slight sneer. 

“Yes, sir, of both, if the truth must be told,” I 
replied. “ That is the way she found me out.” 

This unexpected admission increased the per- 
plexity all around, and also added to Miss Warren’s 
merriment. 

“ Where is the paper ?” said Adah quickly. 

At this peculiar proof of his daughter’s indiffer- 
ence Mr. Yocomb fairly exploded with laughter. 
He seemingly shared his wife’s confidence in Miss 
Warren to that degree that the young lady’s knowl- 
edge of my business, combined with her manner, 
was a guarantee against anything seriously wrong. 
Moreover, the young girl’s laugh was singularly 
contagious. Its spontaneity and heartiness were 
irresistible, and I feared that her singing would not 
be half so musical. 

“Richard Morton,” said Mrs. Yocomb, rising, 
“ if thee wishes to free thy mind, or conscience, or 
heart, I will now give thee an opportunity.” 

“ My fate is in your hands. If you send me 
back to my old life and work I will go at once.” 

“ Ah !” exclaimed Miss Warren, in mock gravity, 
“ now there is a touch of tragedy in your words. 
Must we all hold our breaths till you return, ab^ 
solved or condemned?’' 


A QUAKER TEA, 


8i 


“ And were I condemned would you breathe 
freely ?” 

‘‘Yes, indeed I would, if Mrs. Yocomb con- 
demned you. But after my sense of justice was 
atisfied I might be moved to pity.” 

“ And you think I may become a pitiable ob- 
ject ?” 

“ You would be, indeed, if Mrs. Yocomb con- 
demned you.” 

“ Lead on,” I exclaimed, with a gesture of mock 
tragedy ; “ th<'«= is the hour of destiny.” 


CHAPTER VII. 


A FRIEND, 


ICHARD MORTON,” said Mrs. Yocomb, 



as she sat down encouragingly near me in 


the low-studded parlor, “ thee does not look into 
my eyes as if thee had a great burden on thy con- 
science.” 

I have a great fear in my heart,” I said. 

“ The two should go together,” she remarked a 
little gravely ; and strength will be given thee to 
cast away both. 

The spirit of jesting left me at once, and I know 
that I looked into her kind motherly face very 
wistfully and appealingly. After a moment 1 
asked, 

“ Mrs. Yocomb, did you ever treat an utter 
stranger so kindly before ?” 

I think so,” she said, with a smile. Emily 
Warren came to us an entire stranger and we al- 
ready love her very much.” 

I can understand that. Miss Warren is a gen- 
uine woman — one after your own heart. I was not 
long in finding that out. But I am a man of the 
world, and you must have noted the fact from the 
first.” 

Richard Morton, supposing thee is a sinner 
above all others in Galilee, where do I find a war- 
rant for the ‘ I am better than thou ' spirit ?” 


A FRIEND. 83 

She said these words so gently and sincerely that 
they touched my very soul, and I exclaimed, 

“ If evil had been my choice a thousand years, 
you might win me from it.” 

She shook her head gravely as she said, 

Thee doesn’t understand. Weak is the arm of 
flesh.” 

But kindness and charity are omnipotent.” 

‘‘ Yes, if thee turns to Omnipotence for them. 
But far be it from me to judge thee, Richard Mor- 
ton. Because thee does not walk just where I am 
walking is no proof that thou art not a pilgrim.” 

” I must tell you in all sincerity that I am not.. 
My brain, heart, and soul have been absorbed by 
the world, and not by its best things either. Fif- 
teen years ago, when scarcely more than a child, I 
was left alone in it. I have feared it inexpressibly, 
and with good reason. I have fought it, and have 
often been worsted. At times I have hated it ; 
but as I began to succeed I learned to love it, and 
to serve it with an ambition that gave me so little 
respite that yesterday I thought that I was a bro- 
ken and worn-out man. If ever the world had a 
slave, I am one ; but there have been times during 
this June day when I earnestly wished that I might 
break my chains ; and your serene, kindly face, 
that is in such blessed contrast to its shrewd, exact- 
ing, and merciless spirit, gave hope from the first.” 

” So thee has been alone in the world since thee 
was a little boy,” she said, in a tone that seemed 
the echo of my dead mother’s voice. 

” Since I was twelve years of age,” I replied. 


84 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


after a moment, and looking away. I could not 
meet her kind eyes as I added, “ My mother’s 
memory has been the one good, sacred influence of 
my life ; but I have not been so true to it as I 
ought to have been — nothing like so true.” 

“ Has thee no near friends or relatives?” 

” I have acquaintances by the hundred, but there 
is no one to whom I could speak as I have to you, 
whom I have known but a few hours. A man has 
intuitions sometimes as well as a woman.” 

” How strange it all is !” said Mrs. Yocomb, 
with a sigh, and looking absently out of the win- 
dow to where the sun glowed not far above the ho- 
rizon. Its level rays lighted up her face, making it 
so beautiful and noble that I felt assured that I had 
come to the right one for light and guidance. 
” Every heart seems to have its burden when the 
whole truth is known,” she added meditatively. 
” I wonder if any are exempt. Thee seemed in- 
deed a man of the world when jesting at the table, 
but now I see thy true self. Thee is right, Richard 
Morton ; thee can speak to me as to thy friend.” 

” I fear your surmise is true, Mrs. Yocomb ; for 
in two instances to-day have I caught glimpses of 
burdens heavier than mine.” 

She looked at me hastily, and her face grew pale. 
I relieved her by quietly continuing, 

” Whether you have a burden on your heart or 
not, one thing I know to be true — the burdened in 
heart or conscience would instinctively turn to you. 
I am conscious that it is this vital difference be- 
tween your spirit and that of the world which leads 


A FRIEND. 85 

me to speak as I do. Except as we master and 
hold our own in the world, it informs us that we are 
of little account — one of millions ; and our burdens 
and sorrows are treated as sickly sentimentalities. 
There is no isolation more perfect than that of a 
man of the world among people of his own kind^ 
with whom manifestations of feeling are weak- 
nesses, securing prompt ridicule. Reticence, a 
shrewd alertness to the main chance of the hour, 
and the spirit of the entire proverb, ‘ Every man for 
himself,’ become such fixed characteristics that I 
suppose there is danger that the deepest springs in 
one’s nature may dry up, and no Artesian shaft of 
mercy or truth be able to find anything in a man’s 
soul save arid selfishness. In spite of all that 
conscience can say against me — and it can say very 
much — I feel sure that I have not ^^et reached that 
hopeless condition.” 

” No, Richard Morton, thee has not.” 

” I honestly hope I never may, and yet I fear it. 
Perhaps the turning-point has come when I must 
resolutely look my old life and its tendencies in the 
face and as resolutely work out such changes as true 
manhood requires. If you will permit a metaphor, 
I feel like a shipmaster whom a long-continued and 
relentless gale has driven into an unexpected and 
quiet harbor. Before I put to sea again I would 
like to rest, make repairs, and get my true bear- 
ings, otherwise I may make shipwreck altogether. 
And so, impelled by my stress and need, I venture 
to ask if you will permit me to become an inmate 
of your home for a time on terms similar to those 


86 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


that you have made with Miss Warren. That you 
may very naturally decline is the ground of the fear 
to which I referred. 

“ Richard Morton/’ said the old lady heartily, 

thee’s welcome to stay with us as long as thee 
pleases, and to come whenever thee can. The lead- 
ings in this case are plain, and I shall pray the kind 
Heavenly Father that all thy hopes may be real- 
ized.” 

” One has been realized truly. You cannot 
know how grateful I am.” 

” Thee’s welcome, surely, and father will tell 
thee so too. Come,” and she led me out to the 
farther end of the veranda, where Mr. Yocomb 
sat with Miss Warren, his daughters, and Silas 
Jones grouped near him. 

” Well,” exclaimed Adah eagerly, ” what is Mr. 
Morton’s calling? It must, indeed, be a dreadful 
business, since you have had such a long and serious 
time.” 

Mrs. Yocomb looked at me a little blankly. 

” I declare,” I exclaimed, laughing, ” I forgot 
to tell you. ” 

” Forgot to tell !” cried Adah. ” Why, what 
on earth did you tell ? There is nothing about you 
in this paper that I can find.” 

Mr. Yocomb looked perplexed, and I saw Miss 
Warren’s quick glance at Mrs. Yocomb, who smiled 
back reassuringly. 

” Father,” she said, ” Richard Morton wishes to 
stay with us for a time. I have told him that he 
was welcome, and that thee would tell him so, too. 


A FRIEND, 87 

I think thee will. Thee may ask him any ques- 
tions thee pleases. I am satisfied.'* 

“ Thee is mistress of thy home, mother, and if 
thee's satisfied I am. Richard Morton, thee’s wel- 
come. Thee was wise to get mother on thy side.” 

” So I instinctively felt ever since I saw her at 
the meeting-house door.” 

‘‘ Perhaps mother gave thee a bit of a sermon ?” 

” She has given me two things that a man can’t 
be a man without — hope and courage.” 

” Well, thee does kind of look as if thee had 
plucked up heart.” 

” You, too, are catching the infection of this 
home,” Miss Warren said, in a low voice, as she 
stood near me. 

” So soon ? I feel that I shall need an exposure 
of several weeks. There is now but one obstacle 
in the way.” 

” Ah, yes ! I remember what you said. It’s time 
you explained.” 

“Not yet.” And I turned and answered Adah's 
perplexed and frowning brow. 

“You will find me in that paper. Miss Adah, as 
one of its chief faults. I am one of its editors, and 
this fact will reveal to you the calling from which 
I and many others, no doubt, have suffered. Thus 
you see that, after ah, I have revealed my secret to 
you only. To your mother I revealed myself. I 
hope, sir, you will not reverse your decision?” I 
said to Mr. Yocomb. 

The old gentleman laughed heartily as he an- 
swered, “ I have had my say about editors in gen- 


88 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


eral. Mother and — I may add — something in thy 
own manner, has inclined me to except present com- 
pany. But ril read thy paper since Emily Warren 
takes it, so thee’d better beware.” 

I saw that Adah was regarding me with com 
placency, and seemed meditating many other ques- 
tions. I had fully decided, however, that while I 
should aim to keep her good will I would not per- 
mit her to make life a burden by her inane chatter, 
or by any sense of proprietorship in me. She must 
learn, as speedily as possible, that I was not one of 
her ” half-dozen young men.” 

” Richard Morton, thee can keep thy room, and 
I hope thee will not find our quiet, homely ways 
irksome, since we cannot greatly change them,” 
said my hostess. 

‘‘ I have a request to make, Mrs. Yocomb,” I 
replied earnestly ; ” and I shall derive no pleasure 
or benefit from my sojourn with you unless you 
grant it. It is, that your family life may go on 
just the same as if I were not here. As surely as I 
see that I am a source of restraint or extra care and 
trouble, you will drive me out into the wilderness 
again. You know why I wish to stay with you,” I 
added meaningly. 

“We shall take thee at thy word,” said Mrs. 
Yocomb, with a smile on her lips, but a very wist- 
(ul, kindly light in her eyes. 

“ Reuben, tell Richard Morton the truth,” said 
his father. “ Would it give thee a great deal of 
trouble or much pleasure to take Dapple and drive 
to the village for friend Morton’s valise ?” 


A FRIEND. 


89 

The youth, who was a good-natured and manly 
boy, to whom Sundays passed a trifle slowly, sprang 
up with such alacrity that I laughed as I said, 
“No need of words, Reuben, but I owe you a good 
turn all the same.” Then turning to Miss War- 
ren I continued, 

“You have been here a week. Will your con- 
science permit you to teach me a little topography ? 
It would be no worse than reading that news- 
paper. 

“ Indeed, I think it might be better. It will be 
a useful task at least ; for, left to yourself, you 
might get lost, and make Mr. Yocomb no end of 
trouble. Did you not tell me, sir (to our host), 
that on one occasion you had to hunt some one up 
with fish-horns, lanterns, etc. ?” 

“ Yes, and he was from New York, too,” said 
Mr. Yocomb. 

“ If I get lost, leave me to my fate. There will 
be one editor the less.” 

“ Very true ; but I’d rather have thee on thy 
paper than on my conscience. So Emily Warren, 
thee look after him, and show him the right and 
proper ways, for I am now too old to enjoy a night 
hunt, even with the music of fish-horns to cheer us 
on. I ask thee, Emily, for some of thine instead 
when thee comes back.” 


CHAPTER VIIL 


THE MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 

“ T S it a task, then, to show me the right paths 

X and proper ways?” I asked, as we strolled 
away, leaving Adah looking as if — in her curiosity 
to know more of the new species, a night editor — 
she wished Silas Jones in the depths of the Dead 
Sea. 

That may depend on how apt and interesting a 
scholar you prove. Tm a teacher, you know, and 
teaching some of my scholars is drudgery, and 
others a pleasure.” . 

” So Tm put on my good behavior at once.” 

‘‘You ought to be on your good behavior any- 
way — this is Sunday.” 

‘‘Yes, and June. If a man is not good now 
he’ll never be. And yet such people as Mrs. Yo- 
comb — nor will I except present company — make 
me aware that I am not good — far from it.” 

‘‘ I am glad Mrs. Yocomb made just that impres- 
sion on you.” 

‘‘Why?” 

‘‘ Because it proves you a better man than your 
words suggest, and, what is of more consequence, 
a receptive man. I should have little hope for any 
one who came from a quiet talk with Mrs. Yocomb 
in a complacent mood or merely disposed to indulge 
in a few platitudes on the sweetness and quaintness 
of her character, and some sentimentalities in regard 


THE MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 


91 


to Friends. If the depths of one’s nature were not 
stirred, then I would believe that there were no 
depths. She is doing me much good, and giving 
me just the help I needed.” 

” I can honestly say that she uttered one sen- 
tence that did find soundings in such shallow depths 
as exist in my nature, and I ought to be a better 
man for it hereafter.” 

“ She may have found you dreadfully bad, Mr. 
Morton ; but I saw from her face that she did not 
find you shallow. If she had, you would not have 
touched her so deeply.” 

” I touched her ?” 

Yes. Women understand each other. Some- 
thing you said — but do not think I’m seeking to 
learn what it was — moved her sympathies.” 

” Oh, she’s kind and sympathetic toward every 
poor mortal.” 

” Very true ; but she’s intensely womanly ; and 
a woman is incapable of a benevolence and sympa- 
thy that are measured out by the yard — so much to 
each one, according to the dictates of judgment. 
You were so fortunate as to move Mrs. Yocomb 
somewhat as she touched your feelings ; and you 
have cause to be glad, for she can be a friend that 
will make life richer.” 

” I think I can now recall what excited her sym- 
pathies, and may tell you some time, that is, if you 
do not send me away.” 

” I send you away ?” 

“Yes, I told you that you were the one obstacW 
to my remaining.” 


92 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


She looked at me as if perplexed and a little hurt. 
I did not reply at once, for her countenance was so 
mobile, so obedient to her thought and feeling, that 
I watched its varied expressions with an interest 
that constantly deepened. In contrast to Adah 
Yocomb’s her face was usually pale ; and yet it had 
not the sickly pallor of ill-health, but the clear, 
transparent complexion that is between the bru- 
nette and the blonde. Her eyes were full, and the 
impression of largeness, when she looked directly 
at you, was increased by a peculiar outward curve 
of their long lashes. Whether her eyes could be 
called blue I could not yet decide, and they seemed 
tc darken and grow a little cold as she now looked 
at me ; but she merely said, quietly, 

“ I do not understand you.” 

This was your chosen resting-place for the sum- 
mer, was it not. Miss Warren ?” 

” Yes.” 

” Well, then, what right have I, an entire stran- 
ger, to come blundering along like a June beetle 
and disturb your rest ? You did not look forward 
to associations with night editors and like disrepu- 
table people when you chose this sheltered nook of 
the world, and nestled under Mrs. Yocomb’s wing. 
You have the prior right here.” 

As I spoke, her face so changed that it reminded 
me of the morning of this eventful day when I first 
looked out upon its brightness, and as I ceased her 
laugh rang out heartily. 

” So after all your fate is in my hands.” 

” It i3. You have pre-empted this claim.*' 


THE MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES, 93 

“ Suppose I am a little non-committal, and should 
say, You may spend the evening, you may stay till 
to-morrow ; would you be content ?” 

“ No, indeed, but I would have to submit." 

" Well, this is rich. Whoever heard of an 
editor — and the shrewd, alert, night editor at that — 
in such a dilemma ! Do you realize what an un- 
wise step you have taken ? Mr. Yocomb justly 
complimented your shrewdness in getting Mrs. Yo- 
comb on your side, and having won her over you 
were safe, and might have remained in this Eden as 
long as you chose. Now you place it within the 
power — the caprice even — of an utter stranger to 
send you out into the wilderness again." 

I said, with a smile, " I am satisfied that you 
differ from your mother Eve in one respect." 

" Ah ! in what respect ?" 

"You are not the kind of woman that causes 
banishment from Eden." 

" You know very little about me, Mr. Morton." 

" I know that." 

She smiled and looked pleased in spite of herself. 

" I think ril let you stay till — till to-morrow," 
she said, with an arch side glance ; then added, 
with a laugh, " What nonsense we are talking ! As 
if you had not as good a right to be here as I 
have." 

" I beg your pardon. I spoke in downright sin- 
cerity. You found this quiet place first. In a large 
hotel, all kinds of people can meet almost as they 
do on Broadway ; but here we must dwell together 
^s one family, and I feel that I have no right to 


94 


A DAY OF FA 7'E. 


force on you any association without your leave, 
especially as you are here alone. In a certain 
sense I introduce myself, and compel you to meet 
me socially without your permission. You may 
have formed a very different plan for your sum 
mer’s rest.” 

” It is rather rare for a music-teacher to receive 
so much consideration. It bewilders me a little. ” 

” Pardon me. I soon discovered that you pos- 
sessed woman’s highest rank.” 

” Indeed ! Am I a princess in disguise T* 

” You are more than many princesses have been — 
a lady. And, as I said before, you are here alone.” 

She turned and looked at me intently, and I felt 
that if I had not been sincere she would have 
known it. It was a peculiar and, I eventually 
learned, a characteristic act. I am now inclined to 
think that she saw the precise attitude of my mind 
and feeling toward her ; but my awakening interest 
was as far removed from curiosity as is our natural 
desire to have a melody completed, the opening 
strains of which are captivating. 

Her face quickly lost its aspect of grave scrutiny, 
and she looked away, with a slight accession of color. 

” Do you want to stay very much ?” she asked. 

” Miss Warren,” I exclaimed, and my expres- 
sion must have been eager and glad, ” you looked at 
me then as you would at a doubtful stranger, and 
your glance was searching. You looked as only a 
woman can — as one who would see her way rather 
than reason it out Now tell me in sincerity what 
you saw.” ■ * 


THE MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 


95 


“You know from my manner what I saw," she 
said, smiling and blushing slightly. 

“ No, I only hoped ; I have not a woman's eye- 
sight." 

She bit her lip, contracted her wide, low brow 
for a moment, then turned and said frankly, 

" I did not mean to be rude in my rather direct 
glance. Even though a music-teacher, I have had 
compliments before, and I have usually found them 
as empty and insincere as the people who employed 
them. I am somewhat alone in the world, Mr. 
Morton, and I belong to that class of timid and 
rather helpless creatures whose safety lies in their 
readiness to run to cover. I have found truth the 
best cover for me, situated as I am. I aim to be 
just what 1 seem — neither more nor less ; and I am 
very much afraid of people who do not speak the 
truth, especially when they are disposed to say nice 
things." 

“ And you saw ?" 

" I saw that, bad as you are, I could trust you," 
she said, laughing ; " a fact that I was glad to learn 
since you are so bent on forcing your society upon us 
all for a time. " 

“ Thank Heaven !" I exclaimed, “ I thought yes- 
terday that I was a bankrupt, but I must have a 
little of the man left in me to h-ave passed this or- 
deal. Had I seen distrust in your eyes and conse- 
quent reserve in your manner, I should have been 
sorely wounded." 

" No," she replied, shaking her head, “ when a 
man’s character is such as to excite distrust, he 


96 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


could not be so sorely wounded as you sug- 
gest.” 

” I’m not sure of that,” I said. ” I think a man 
may know himself to be weak and wicked, and yet 
suffer greatly from such consciousness.” 

” Why should he weakly suffer? Why not sim- 
ply do right ? I can endure a certain amount of 
honest wickedness, but there is a phase of moral 
weakness that I detest,” and for a moment her 
face wore an aspect that would have made any one 
wronging her tremble, for it was pure, strong, and 
almost severe. 

” I do believe,” I said, ” that men are more mer- 
ciful to the foibles of humanity than women.” 

“You are more tolerant, perhaps. Ah! there’s 
Dapple,” and she ran to meet the spirited horse 
that was coming from the farmyard. Reuben, driv- 
ing, sat confidently in his light open wagon, and 
his face indicated that he and the beautiful animal 
he could scarcely restrain shared equally in their 
enjoyment of young, healthful life. I was alarmed 
to see Miss Warren run forward, since at the mo- 
ment Dapple was pawing the air. A second later 
she was patting his arched neck and rubbing her 
cheek against his nose, He looked as if he liked 
it. Well he might. 

” Oh, Reuben,” she cried, ” I envy you. I 
haven’t seen a horse in town that could compare 
with Dapple.” 

The young fellow was fairly radiant as he drove 
^way. 

She looked after him >vi3tf ully, and drew a long sigh. 



Dav of Fate. 


Page 97, 


. V < 

« 




Cl- 


* 




V ' 

.€ 

k 





THE MYSTERY OF MYSTERIES. 97 

“Ah !“ she said, “they do me good after my 
city life. There’s life for you, Mr. Morton — full, 
overflowing, innocent life — in the boy and in the 
horse. Existence, motion, is to them happiness. It 
seems a pity that both must grow old and weary ! 
My hand fairly tingles yet from my touch of Dap- 
ple’s neck, he was so alive with spirit. What is it 
that animated that great mass of flesh and blood, 
bone and sinew, making him so strong, yet so 
gentle. At a blow he would have dashed every- 
thing to pieces, but he is as sensitive to kindness as 
I am. 1 sometimes half think that Dapple has as 
good a right to a soul as 1 have. Perhaps you are 
inclined toward Turkish philosophy, and think so 
too. ’’ 

“ I should be well content to go to the same hea- 
ven that receives you and Dapple. You are very 
fearless. Miss Warren, thus to approach a rearing 
horse. ’’ 

Her answer was a slight scream, and she caught 
my arm as if for protection. At the moment I 
spoke a sudden turning in the lane brought us face 
to face with a large matronly cow that was quietly 
ruminating and switching away the flies. She 
turned upon us her large, mild, “ Juno-like’’ eyes, 
in which one might imagine a faint expression of 
surprise, but nothing more. 

My companion was trembling, and she said hur- 
riedly, 

“ Please let us turn back, or go some other way.’’ 

“Why, Miss Warren,’’ I exclaimed, “what E 
the matter,^’’ 


98 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


That dreadful cow ! Cows are my terror. 

I laughed outright as I said, “ Now is the time 
for me to display courage, and prove that an editor 
can be the knight-errant of the age. Upon my 
soul. Miss Warren, I shall protect you whatever 
horn of this dilemma I may be impaled upon." 
Then advancing resolutely toward the cow, I added, 
“ Madam, by your leave, we must pass this way." 

At my approach the " dreadful cow" turned and 
ran down the lane to the pasture field, in a gait 
peculiarly feminine. 

" Now you know what it is to have a protector," 
I said, returning. 

" I'm glad you’re not afraid of cows," she re- 
plied complacently. " I shall never get over it. 
They are my terror." 

“ There is one other beast," I said, " that I am 
sure would inspire you with equal dread." 

" I know you are going to say a mouse. Well, 
it may seem very silly to you, but I can't help it. 
I’m glad I wasn’t afraid of Dapple, for you now can 
think me a coward only in streaks." 

" It does appear to me irresistibly funny that 
you, who, alone and single-handed, have mastered 
this great world so that it is under your foot, should 
have quailed before that inoffensive cow, which is 
harmless as the milk she gives." 

" A woman, Mr. Morton, is the mystery of mys- 
teries — the one problem of the world that will 
never be solved. We even do not understand our- 
selves. ’ ’ 

For which truth I am devoutly thankful. I 


THE MYSTEkY OF MYSTERIES, 90 

imagine that instead of a week, as Mr. Yocomb 
said, it would require a lifetime to get acquainted 
with some women. I wish my mother had lived. 
Fm sure that she would have been a continuous 
revelation to me. I know that she had a great deal 
of sorrow, and yet my most distinct recollection of 
her is her laugh. No earthly sound ever had for 
me so much meaning as her laugh. I think she 
laughed when other people would have cried. 
There’s a tone in your laugh that has recalled to 
me my mother again and again this afternoon.” 

” I hope it is not a source of pain,” she said 
gently. 

“Far from it,” I replied. “Memories of my 
mother give me pleasure, but I rarely meet with 
one to whom I would even think of mentioning her 
name.” 

“Ido not remember my mother, ’ ’ she said sadly. 

“ Come,” I resumed hastily, “ you admit that 
you have been dull and lonely to-day. Look at 
that magnificent glow in the west. So assuredly 
ended in brightness the lives of those we loved, 
however clouded their day may have been at times. 
This June evening, so full of glad sounds, is not 
the time for sad thoughts. Listen to the robins, to 
that saucy oriole yonder on the swaying elm- 
branch. Beyond all, hear that thrush. Can you 
imagine a more delicious refinement of sound } Let 
us give way to sadness when we must, and escape 
from it when we can. I would prefer to continue 
up this shady lane, but it may prove too shadowy, 
and so color our thousrhts. Suppose we return to 


[OO 


A DAY 01^ FA TE. 


the farmyard, where Mr. Yocomb is feeding the 
chickens, and then look through the old garden to- 
gether. You are a country woman, for you have 
been here a week ; and so I shall expect you to 
name and explain everything. At any rate you shall 
not be blue any more to-day if I can prevent it. 
You see I am trying to reward your self-sacrifice in 
letting me stay till to-morrow.” 

“You are so considerate that I may let you 
remain a little longer.” 

“What is that fable about the camel? If he 
once gets his head in — ” 

“ He next puts his foot in it, is the sequel, 
perhaps,” she replied, with the laugh that was be- 
coming o me like a refrain of music that 1 could- 
not hear too often. 


CHAPTER IJC, 


“ OLD PLOD.” 



MILY WARREN, why does thee bring 


J — ^ Richard Morton back so soon ?” asked Mr. 
Yocomb, suspending for a moment the sweep of 
his hand that was scattering grain. 

‘’You are mistaken, sir,” I said ; ‘‘I brought 
Miss Warren back. I thought she would enjoy see- 
ing you feed the poultry, the horses, and especially 
the cows.” 

” Thee’s more self denying than I’d a been,” he 
resumed, with his humorous twinkle. ” Don’t tell 
mother, but I wouldn’t mind taking a walk with 
Emily Warren myself on a June evening like this.” 

” I will take a walk with you whenever you 
wish,” laughed Miss Warren ; ” but I’ll surely tell 
Mrs. Yocomb.” 

” Oh ! I know I’d get found out,” said the old 
man, shaking his head ruefully ; ‘‘I always do.” 

‘‘I’m sure you would if Miss Warren were here,” 
I added. ‘‘ I’m at a loss to know how early in the 
day she found me out.” 

‘‘ Well, I guess thee’s a pretty square sort of a 
man. If thee’d been stealing sheep Emily War- 
ren wouldn’t laugh at thee so approvingly. I’m 
finding out that she rather likes the people she 
laughs at. At least, I take that view, for she 
laughs at me a great deal. I knew from Emily 


102 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


Warren’s laugh that thee hadn’t anything very bad 
to tell mother. ” 

“ I admit that, at the time, I enjoyed being 
Uughed at — a rather rare experience.” 

” You needn’t, either of you, plume yourselves 
that you are irresistibly funny. I laugh easily. 
Mr. Yocomb, why do you feed the chickens so 
slowly? I have noticed it before. Now Reuben 
and Hiram, the man, throw the corn all down at 
once.” 

” They are in more of a hurry than I am. I 
don’t like to do anything in a hurry, least of all to 
eat my dinner. Now, why should these chickens, 
turkeys and ducks gobble everything right down ? 
The corn seems to taste good to them ; so, after a 
handful, I wait till they have had a chance to think 
how good the last kernel was before they get an- 
other. You see I greatly prolong their pleasure.” 

” And in these intervals you meditate on Thanks- 
giving Day, I suppose,” she said. 

” Emily Warren, thee’s a good Yankee. I ad- 
mit that that young gobbler there did suggest a 
day on which I’m always very thankful, and with 
good reason. I had about concluded before thee 
came that, if we were both spared — that gob- 
bler and I — till next November, I would probably 
survive him.” 

” How can you have the heart to plan against 
that poor creature’s life so coolly? See how he 
turns his round, innocent eyes toward you, as if in 
gratitude. If he could know that the hand that 
feeds him would chop off his head, what a moral 


''OLD plod:' 


103 . 

shock he would sustain ! That ' upturned beak 
should be to you like a reproachful face." 

" Emily Warren, we expect thee to eat thy 
Thanksgiving dinner with us ; and that young gob- 
bler will probably be on the table. Now what part 
of him will thee take on that occasion ?" 

" A piece of the breast, if you please." 

" Richard Morton, is not Emily Warren as false 
and cruel as I am ?" 

" Just about. " 

" Is thee not afraid of her.^" 

" I would be if she were unfriendly." 

" Oh, thee thinks everybody in this house is 
friendly. Emily Warren, thee must keep up our good 
name," headded, with amischievous nod toward her. 

" Mr. Yocomb, you are forgetting the chickens 
altoget^her. There are some staid and elderly hens 
that are going to bed in disgust, you have kept 
them waiting so long." 

" See how quick they’ll change their minds," he 
said, as he threw down a handful of corn. " Now 
isn’t that just like a hen ?’’ he added, as they hast- 
ened back. 

" And just like a woman also, I’m sure you want 
to suggest," said Miss Warren. 

" I suppose thee never changes thy mind." 

"I’m going to change the subject. Poultry with 
their feathers on don’t interest me very much. 
The male birds remind me of a detestable class of 
conceited men, that one must see daily in the city, 
whose* gallantry is all affectation, and who never 
for a moment lose sight of themselves or their own 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


t04 

importance. That strutting gobbler there, Mr. 
Morton, reminds me of certain eminent statesmen 
whom your paper delights to honor, and I imagine 
that that ridiculous creature embodies their idea of 
the American eagle. Then the hens have such a 
simple, unthinking aspect. They act as if they ex- 
pected to be crowed over as* a matter of course ; 
and thus typify the followers of these statesmen, 
who are so pre-eminent in their own estimation. 
Their exalted perches seem to be awarded unques- 
tioningly. ” 

“ So you think, Miss Warren, that I have the 
simple, unthinking aspect typified by the physiog- 
nomy of these hens?” 

‘‘ Mr. Morton, I was generalizing. We always 
except present company. Remember, I disagree 
with your paper, not you ; but why you look up to 
these human species of the gobbler is something I 
can’t understand, and being only a zvomaUy that 
need not seem strange to you.” 

” Since I must tell you the truth on all occa- 
sions, nolens volens^ you have hit on a subject 
wherein I differ from my paper. Human phases of 
the gobbler are not pleasant.” 

“ But the turkey phase is, very,'' said Mr. Yo- 
comb, throwing a handful of corn down before his 
favorite, which, like certain eminent statesmen, im- 
mediately looked after his own interests. 

“ Mr. Yocomb, please, let me help you feed the 
horses,” said. Miss Warren, leading the way into 
the barn, where on one side were mows for hay and 
grain, and, on the other, stalls for several horses. 


Plod:" 


The sleek and comfortable animals seemed to know 
the young girl, for they thrust out their black and 
brown noses toward her and projected their ears 
instead of laying them back viciously, as when I 
approached ; and one old plough-horse that had 
been much neglected, until Miss Warren began to 
pet him, gave a loud ecstatic whinny. 

“ Oh, you big, honest old fellows !” she exclaimed, 
caressing one and another, “I’d rather teach you 
than half my pupils.” 

“ In which half do you place me ?” I asked. 

“ You ? oh, I forgot ; I was to teach you topog- 
raphy. I will assign you by and by, after you 
have had few lessons.” 

“ A man ought to do as well as a horse, so I 
hope to win your favor.” 

“ I wish all men did as well as Mr. Yocomb’s 
horses. They evidently feel they have the family 
name and respectability to keep up. Mr. Yocomb, 
what is it that smells so sweetly ?” 

“ That is the red-top clover we cut last week.” 

“Oh, isn’t it good I wouldn’t mind having 
some myself,” and she snatched down a fragrant 
handful from the mow. “ Here, Old Plod,” she 
said, turning to the plough-horse, “ the world has 
rather snubbed you, as it has honest worth before. 
Mr. Yocomb, you and Reuben are much too fond 
of gay horses.” 

“ Shall I tell Reuben that thee’d rather ride after 
Old Plod, as thee calls him ?” 

“ No, I thank you ; I’ll go on as I’ve begun. 
I’m not changeable.” 


A DA V OP PA TP . 


io6 

“ Now, Friend Morton, is not Emily Warren as 
bad as I am about gay horses ?" 

“ Fm inclined to think she is about as bad as you 
are in all respects.” 

' ‘ Emily Warren, thee needn’t put on any more 
airs. Richard Morton thinks thee isn’t any better 
than I am, and there’s nothing under the sun an 
editor doesn’t know.” 

” I wish he were right this time,” she said, with 
a laugh and sigh curiously blended. ” It seems to 
me, Mr. Yocomb, that you have grown here in the 
country like your clover-hay, and are as good and 
wholesome. In New York it is so different, espe- 
cially if one has no home life ; you breathe a differ- 
ent atmosphere from us in more respects than one. 
This fragrant old barn appears to me more of a 
sanctuary than some churches in which I have tried 
to worship, and its dim evening light more religious. ’ ’ 

” According to your faith,” I said, “no shrine 
has ever contained so precious a gift as a manger.” 

“ According to our faith, if you please, Mr. 
Morton.” 

By an instinct that ignored a custom of the 
Friends, but exemplified their spirit, the old man 
took off his hat as he said, “ Yes, friend Morton, 
according to our faith. The child that was cradled 
in a manger tends to make the world innocent.” 

“ The old barn has indeed become a sanctuary,” I 
thought, in the brief silence that followed. Miss 
Warren stepped to the door, and I saw a quick ges- 
ture of her hands to her eyes. Then she turned 
and said, in her piquant way. 


*^OLD PLOD. 


107 


** Mr. Yocomb, our talk reminds me of the long 
grace in Latin which the priests said before meals, 
and which the hungry people couldn’t understand. 
The horses are hinting broadly that oats would be 
more edifying. If it were Monday, I’d wager you 
a plum that they would all leave your oats to eat 
clover-hay out of my hand.” 

“Well arrange about the bet to-morrow, and 
now try the experiment,” said Mr. Yocomb, relaps- 
ing into his genial humor at once. 

I was learning, however, that a deep, earnest 
nature was hidden by this outward sheen and spar- 
kle. Filling his four-quart measure from the cob- 
webbed bin, he soon gave each horse his allowance. 

” Now, Richard Morton, thee watch her, and see 
that she doesn’t coax too much, or come it over 
themx with any unlawful witchery. Take the hay 
thyself, Emily, and we’ll stand back.” 

I went to the farther end of the barn, near Old 
Plod, and stood where I could see the maiden’s 
profile against the light that streamed through the 
open door. Never shall I forget the picture I then 
sav/. The tall, ample figure of the old Quaker 
stood in the background, and his smile was broad 
and genial enough to have lighted up a dungeon. 
Above him rose the odorous clover, a handful of 
which Miss Warren held out to the horse in the first 
stall. Her lips were parted, her eyes shining, and 
her face had the intent, eager interest of a child, 
while her attitudes and motions were full of un- 
studied and unconscious grace. 

The first horse munched stolidly away at his oats. 


lo8 A DAY OF FA TE. 

She put the tempting wisp against his nose, at 
which he laid back his ears and looked vicious. 
She turned to Mr. Yocomb, and the old barn 
echoed to a laugh that was music itself as she 
said, 

You have won your plum, if it is Sunday. I 
shall try all the other horses, however, and thus 
learn to value correctly the expressions of affec- 
tion I have received from these long-nosed gentle- 
men.” 

One after another they munched on, regardless 
of the clover. Step by step she came nearer to me, 
smiling and frowning at her want of success. My 
heart thrilled at a beauty that was so unconven- 
tional and so utterly self-forgetful. The bloom- 
ing clover, before it fell at a sweep of the scythe, 
was the fit emblem of her then, she looked so 
young, so fair, and sweet. 

“They are as bad as men,” she exclaimed, 
” who will forgive any wrong rather than an inter- 
ruption at dinner.” 

She now stood at my side before Old Plod, that 
thus far, in his single-minded attention to his oats, 
had seemingly forgotten her presence ; but as he 
lifted his head from the manger ; and saw her, he 
took a step forward, and reached his great brown 
nose toward her, rather than for the clover. In 
brief, he said, in his poor dumb way, 

” I like you better than hay or oats.” 

The horse’s simple, undisguised affection, for 
some reason, touched the girl deeply ; for she drop- 
ped the hay and threw her arm around the horse’s 


“OZZ) PLODr 


109 

head, leaning her face against his. I saw a tear in 
her eye as she murmured, 

“You have more heart than all the rest put to- 
gether. I don’t believe any one was ever kind to 
you before, and you’ve been a bit lonely, like my- 
self.’’ Then she led the way hastily out of the 
barn, saying, “ Old Plod and I are sworn friends 
from' this time forth ; and I shall take your advice. 
Old Plod.’’ 

I was soon at her side, and asked, 

“ What advice did Old Plod give you ?’’ 

For some inexplicable reason she colored deeply, 
then laughed as she said, 

“ It’s rarely wise to think aloud but impulsive 
people will do it sometimes. I suppose we all occa 
sionally have questions to decide that to us are per- 
plexing and important, though of little conse 
quence to the world. Come ; if we are to see the 
old garden, we must make the most of the fading 
light. After my interview with Old Plod, I can’t 
descend to cows and pigs ; so go^d-by, Mr. Yo 
comb ’ 


CHAPTER X. 


A BIT OF EDEN. 

’* *' ¥’''HIS is my first entrance into Eden/’ I said, 
-L as we passed through the rustic gate made 
of cedar branches and between posts green with 
American ivy. 

“ Like another man, you won’t stay here long.” 

“ Like Adam, I shall certainly go out when you 
do.” 

” That will be before very long, since I have 
promised Mr. Yocomb some music.” 

” Even though a Bohemian editor, as you may 
think, I am conscious of a profound gratitude to 
some beneficent power, for I never could have 
chosen so wisely myself. I might have been in 
Sodom and Gomorrah — for New York in contrast 
seems a union of both — receiving reports of the 
crimes and casualties of the day, but I am here with 
this garden in the foreground and music in the back- 
ground. ” 

“You don’t know anything about the music, and 
you may yet wish it so far in the background as to 
be inaudible. ” 

“ I admit that I will be in a dilemma when we 
reach the music, for no matter how much I protest, 
you will know just what I think.” 

“ Yes, you had better be honest.” 

“ Come, open for me the treasures of your ripe 


A BIT OF EDEN. 


Ill 


experience. You have been a week in the country. 
I know you will give me a rosebud — a rare old- 
fashioned one, if you please, with a quaint, sweet 
meaning, for I see that such abound in this garden, 
and I am wholly out of humor with the latest mode 
in everything. Recalling your taste for homely, 
honest worth, as shown by your passion for Old 
Plod, I shall seek a blossom among the vegetables 
for you. Ah, here is one that is sweet, white, and 
pretty,” and I plucked a cluster of flowers from a 
potato-hill. “By the way, what flower is this ?” 
I asked demurely. 

She looked at it blankly for a moment, then re- 
marked, v/ith a smile, “.You have said that it was 
sweet, white, and pretty. Why inquire farther?” 

“ Miss Warren, you have been a week in the 
country and don’t know a potato-blossom.” 

” Our relations maybe changed,” she said, ” and 
you become the teacher.” 

” Oh, here comes Zillah. We will settle the 
question according to Scripture. Does it not say, 
‘ A little child shall lead them ? ’ Who are you so 
glad to see, little one, Miss Warren or me ?” 

” I don’t know thee very well yet,” she said 
shyly. 

” Do you know Miss Warren very well ?” 

” Oh, yes, indeed.” 

” How soon did you come to know her well ?” 

” The first day when she kissed me.” 

” I think that’s a very nice way of getting ac- 
quainted. Won’t you let me kiss you good-night 
when you get sleepy.” 


112 


A DA 1 OF FA TE. 


She looked at me with a doubtful smile, and 
said, ‘ I’m afraid thy mustache will tickle me.” 

The birds were singing in the orchard near, but 
there was not a note that to my ear was more mu- 
sical than Miss Warren’s laugh. I stooped down 
before the little girl as I said, 

” Suppose we see if a kiss tickles you now, and if 
it don’t now, you won’t mind it then, you know.” 

She came hesitatingly to me, and gave the cov- 
eted salute with a delicious mingling of maidenly 
shyness and childish innocence and frankness. 

“Ah!” I exclaimed, “Eden itself contained 
nothing better than that. To think that I should 
have been so honored — I who have written the 
records of enough crimes to sink a world !” 

“ Perhaps if you had committed some of them 
she wouldn’t have kissed you.” 

“If I had to live in a ninety-nine story tene- 
ment-house, as so many do, I think I would have 
committed them all. Well, I may come to it. 
Life is a risky battle to such as I, but I’m in 
heaven now.” 

“You do seem very happy,” she said, looking at 
me wistfully. 

“ I am very happy. I have given myself up 
wholly to the influences of this day, letting them 
sway me, lead me whithersoever they will. If this 
is a day of destiny, no stupid mulishness of mine 
shall thwart the happy combination of the stars. 
That the Fates are propitious I have singular reason 
to hope. Yesterday I was a broken and dispirited 
rnan. This evening I feel the influence of all this 


BIT OF EDEN-. 


113 

glad June life. Good Mrs. Yocomb has taken me 
in hand. I’m to study topography with a teacher 
who has several other bumps besides that of lo- 
cality, and Zillah is going to show us the garden of 
Eden.” 

” Is this like the garden of Eden ?” the little girl 
asked, looking up at me in surprise. 

” W^ell, I’m not sure that it’s just like it, but I’m 
more than content with this garden. In one re- 
spect I think it’s better — there are no snakes here. 
Now, Zillah, lead where you please. I’m in the fol- 
lowing mood. Do you know where any of these 
birds live ? Do you think any of them are at home 
on their nests ? If so, we’ll call and pay our re- 
spects. When I was a horrid boy I robbed a bird’s 
nest, and I often have a twinge of remorse for it.” 

“Do you want to see a robin’s nest?” asked 
Zillah excitedly. 

“ Yes, indeed.” 

“ Then come and walk softly when I do. There’s 
one in that lilac-bush there. If we don’t make a 
noise, perhaps we can see mother robin on the nest. 
Sh — , sh — , very softly ; now lift me up as father 
did — there, don’t you see her?” 

I did for a moment, and then the bird flew away 
on a swift, silent wing, but from a neighboring tree 
the paternal robin clamored loudly against our in- 
trusion. Nevertheless, Zillah and I peeped in. 

“ Oh, the queer little things !” she said, “ they 
seem all mouth and swallow.” 

“ Mrs. Robin undoubtedly thinks them lovely. 
Miss Warren, you are not quite tall enough, and 


114 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


since I can't hold you up like Zillah, Til get a box 
from the tool-house. Isn’t this the jolliest house- 
keeping you ever saw ? A father, mother, and six 
children, with a house six inches across and open 
to the sky. Compare that with a Fifth Avenue 
mansion !” 

“ I think it compares very favorably with many 
mansions on the Avenue,” she said, after I returned 
with a box and she had peered for a moment into 
the roofless home. 

” I thought you always spoke the truth,” I re- 
marked, assuming a look of blank amazement. 

” Well, prove that I don’t.” 

Do you mean to say that you think that c. 
simple house, of which this nest is the type, com- 
pares favorably with a Fifth Avenue mansion ?” 

” I do.” 

“ What do you know about such mansions ?” 

” I have pupils in some of the best of them.” 

” I hear the voices of many birds, but you are 
the rara avis of them all,” I said, looking very in- 
credulous. 

” Not at all ; I am simply matter-of-fact. Which 
is worth the more, a furnished house or the grow- 
ing children in it ?” 

” The children ought to be.” 

” Well, many a woman has so much house and 
furniture to look after that she has no time for her 
children. The little brown mother we have fright- 
ened away can give nearly all her time to her chil- 
dren ; and, by the way, they may take cold unless 
we depart and let her shelter them again with her 


A BIT OF EDEN. 


warm feathers. Besides, the protesting paterfa- 
milias on the pear-tree there is not aware of our 
good will toward him and his, and is naturally very 
anxious as to what we human monsters intend. 
The mother bird keeps quiet, but she is watching 
us from some leafy cover with tenfold his anxiety.” 

“You will admit, however, that the man bird is 
doing the best he can.” 

“ Oh, yes, I have a broad charity for all of his 
kind.” 

“ Well, I am one of his kind, and so shall take 
heart and bask in your general good will. Stop 
your noise, old fellow, and go and tell your wife 
that she may come home to the children. I differ 
from you, Miss Warren, as I foresee I often shall. 
You are not matter-of-fact at all. You are uncon- 
ventional, unique — ” 

“ Why not say queer, and give your meaning in 
good plain English ?” 

“ Because that is not my meaning. I fear you 
are. worse — that you are romantic. Moreover, I am 
told that girls who dote on love in a cottage all 
marry rich men if the chance comes.” 

She bit her lip, colored, and seemed annoyed, 
but said, after a moment's hesitation, “ Well, why 
shouldn’t they, if the rich men are the right men ?” 

“ Oh. I think such a course eminently proper and 
thrifty. I'm not finding fault with it in the least. 
They who do this are a little inconsistent, however, 
in shunning so carefully that ideal cottage, over 
which, as young ladies, they had mild and poetic 
raptures. Now, I can’t associate this kind of thing 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


ii6 

with you. If you had ‘ drawings or leadings,’ as Mrs. 
Yocoirib would say, toward a Fifth Avenue mansion^ 
you would say so in effect. I fear you are romantic, 
and are under the delusion that love in a cottage 
means happiness. You have a very honest face, 
and you looked into that nest as if you liked 
it. ” 

“ Mr. Morton,” she said, frowning and laughing 
at the same time, “I’m not going to be argued out 
of self-consciousness. If we don’t know what we 
know, we don’t know anything. I insist upon it that 
I am uttcdy matter-of-fact in my opinions on this 
question. State the subject briefly in prose. Does 
a family exist for the sake of a home, or a home for 
the sake of a family ? I know of many instances 
in which the former of these suppositions is true. 
The father toils and wears himself out, often gam- 
bles — speculating, some call it — and not unfre- 
quently cheats and steals outright in order to keep 
up his establishment. The mother works and wor- 
ries, smooths her wrinkled brow to curious visitors, 
burdens her soul with innumerable deceits, and en- 
slaves herself that her house and its belongings may 
be as good or a little better than her neighbor’s. 
The children soon catch the same spirit, and their 
souls become absorbed in wearing apparel. They 
are complacently ignorant concerning topics of gen- 
eral interest and essential .culture, but would be 
mortified to death if suspected of being a little ofl 
on ‘ good form’ and society’s latest whims in 
mode. It is a dreary thraldom to mere things in 
which the soul becomes as material, narrow, and 


A BIT OF EDEN. I17 

hard as ihe objects which absorb it. There is no 
time for that which gives ideality and breadth.” 

” Do you realize that your philosophy would stop 
half the industries of the world ? Do you not be- 
lieve in large and sumptuously-furnished houses?” 

“Yes, for those who have large incomes. One 
may live in a palace, and yet not be a slave to the 
palace. Our home should be as beautiful as our 
taste and means can make it ; but, like the nest 
yonder, it should simply serve its purpose, leaving 
us the time and means to get all the good out of 
the world at large that we can.” 

A sudden cloud of sadness overcast her face as 
she continued, after a moment, half in soliloquy, 

“The robins will soon take wing and leave the 
nest ; so must we. How many have gone al- 
ready !” 

” But the robins follow the sun in their flight,” I 
said gently, ” and thus they find skies more genial 
than those they left.” 

.She gave me a quick, appreciative smile as she 
said, 

” That’s a pleasant thought.” 

” Your home must be an ideal one,” I remarked 
unthinkingly. 

She colored slightly, and laughed as she an- 
swered, 

“I’m something like a snail ; I carry my home, 
if not my house, around with me. A music- 
teacher can afford neither a palace nor a cottage.” 

I looked at her with eager eyes as I said, ” Par- 
don me if I am unduly frank ; but on this day Tm 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


li8 

inclined to follow every impulse, and sa)’ just what 
I think, regardless of the consequences. You make 
upon me a decided impression of what we men call 
comradeship. I feel as if I had known you weeks 
and months instead of hours. Could we not have 
been robins ourselves in some previous state of ex 
istence, and have flown on a journey together ?” 

“ Mrs. Yocomb had better take you in hand, and 
teach you sobriety. ” 

“Yes, this June air, laden with the odors of 
these sweet old-style roses and grape-blossoms, in- 
toxicates me. These mountains lift me up. 
These birds set my nerves tingling like one of Bee- 
thoven’s symphonies, played by Thomas’s orchestra 
In neither case do I know what the music means, 
but I recognize a divine harmony. Never before 
have I been conscious of such a rare and fine ex- 
hilaration. My mood is the product of an excep- 
tional combination^of causes, and they have culmi- 
nated in this old garden. You know, too, that I am 
a creature of the night, and my faculties are always 
at their best as darkness comes on. I may seem to 
you obtuseness itself, but I feel as if I had been en- 
dowed with a spiritual and almost unerring discern- 
ment. In my sensitive and highly-wrought con- 
dition, I know that the least incongruity or dis- 
cord in sight or sound would jar painfully. Yes, 
laugh at me if you will, but nevertheless I’m going 
to speak my thoughts with no more restraint than 
these birds are under. I’m going back for a mo- 
ment to the primitive condition of society, when 
there were no disguises. You are the mystery of 


A BIT OF EDEN, 


II9 

this garden — you who come from New York, where 
you seem to have lived without the shelter of 
home-life, to have obtained your livelihood among 
conventional aixi artificial people, and to whom the 
false, complicated world must be well known, and 
yet you make no more discord in this garden than 
the first woman would have made. You are in har- 
mony with every leaf, with every flower, and every 
sound ; with that child playing here and there ; 
with the daisies in the orchard ; with the little 
brown mother, whose children you feared might take 
cold. Hush !” I said, with a deprecatory gesture, 
“‘I will speak my mind. Never before in my life 
have I enjoyed the utter absence of concealment. 
In the city one must use words to hide thoughts 
more often than to express them, but here, in this 
old garden, I intend to reproduce for a brief mo- 
ment one of the conditions of Eden, and to speak 
as frankly as the first man could have spoken. I 
am not jesting either, nor am I irreverent. I say, 
in all sincerity, you are the mystery of this garden — 
you who come from New York, and from a life in 
which your own true womanhood has been your 
protection ; and yet if, as of old, God should walk 
in this garden in the cool of the day, it seems to 
me you would not be afraid. Such is the im- 
pression — given without reserve — that you make on 
me — you whom I have just seen, as it were !” 

As she realized my sincerity she looked at me 
with an expression of strong perplexity and surprise. 

'‘Truly, Mr. Morton,” she said slowly, “you 
are in a strange, unnatural mood this evening,” 


120 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“I seem so,” I replied, “because absolutely 
true to nature. See how far astray from Eden we 
all are ! I have merely for a moment spoken my 
thoughts without disguise, and you look as if you 
doubted my sanity.” 

“ I must doubt your judgment, ” she said, turning 
away. 

“ Then why should such a clearly-defined im- 
pression be made on me? For every effect there 
must be a cause. ” 

She turned upon me suddenly, and her look was 
eager, searching, and almost imperious in its de- 
mand to know the truth. 

“ Are you as sincere as you are unconven- 
tional ?” she asked. 

I took off my hat, as I replied, with a smile, “ A 
garden. Miss Warren, was the first sacred place of 
the world, and never were sincerer words spoken in 
that primal garden.” 

She looked at me a moment wistfully, and even 
tearfully. “ I wish you were right,” she said, 
slowly shaking her head ; “ your strange mood has 
infected me, I think ; and I will admit that to be 
true is the struggle of my life, but the effort to be 
true is often hard, bitterly hard, in New York. I ad- 
mit that for years truthfulness has been the goal o^ 
my ambition. Most young girls have a father and 
mother and brothers to protect them : I have had 
only the truth, and I cling to it with the instinct of 
self-preservation. ” 

“You cling to it because you love it. Pardon 
me, you do not cling to it at all. Truth has be- 


A BIT OF EDEN, 


I2I 


tonic the warp and woof of your nature. Ah ! 
here is your emblem, not growing in the garden, 
but leaning over the fence as if it would like to 
come in, and yet, among all the roses here, where 
is there one that excels this flower?” And I gath- 
ered for her two or three sprays of sweetbrier. 

“I won’t mar your bit of Eden by a trace of 
affectation.’* she said, looking directly into my eyes 
in a frank and friendly manner ; ‘‘I’d rather be 
thought true than thought a genius, and I will 
make allowance for your extravagant language and 
estimate on the ground of your intoxication. You 
surely see double, and yet I am pleased that in 
your transcendental mood I do not seem to make 
discord in this old garden. This will seem to you 
a silly admission after you leave this place and re- 
cover your every-day senses. I’m sorry already I 
made it — but it was such an odd conceit of 
yours !” and her heightened color and glowing face 
proved how she relished it. 

It was an exquisite moment to me. The woman 
showed her pleasure as frankly as a happy child. I 
had touched the keynote of her character as I had 
that of Adah Yocomb’s a few hours before, and in 
her supreme individuality Emily Warren stood re- 
vealed before me in the garden. 

She probably saw more admiration in my face 
than she liked, for her manner changed suddenly. 

‘‘ Being honest doesn’t mean being made of 
glass,” she said brusquely ; ” you don’t know any- 
thing about me, Mr. Morton. You have simply 
discovered that I have not a leaning toward prevar- 


122 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


ication. That’s all your fine words amount to. 
Since I must keep up a reputation for telling the 
truth, I’m obliged to say that you don’t remind me 
of Adam very much.” 

“No, I probably remind you of a night editor, 
ambitious to be smart in print.” 

She bit her lip, colored a little. “ I wasn’t 
thinking of you in that light just then,” she said. 

‘ And — and Adam is not my ideal man.” 

“ In what light did you see me ?” 

“ It is growing dusky, and I won’t be able to see 
you at all soon.” 

“ That’s evasion.” 

“ Come, Mr. Morton, I hope you do not propose 
to keep up Eden customs indefinitely. It’s time 
we returned to the world to which we belong. ” 

“ Zillah !” called Mrs. Yocomb, and we saw her 
coming down the garden walk. 

“ Bless me ! where is the child !” I exclaimed. 

“ When you began to soar into the realms of 
melodrama and forget the garden you had asked 
her to show you, she sensibly tried to amuse her- 
self. She is in the strawberry-bed, Mrs. Yo- 
comb.” 

“Yes,” I said, “ I admit that I forgot the gar- 
den ; I had good reason to do so.” 

“ I think it is time we left the garden. You 
must remember that Mrs. Yocomb and I are not 
night editors, and cannot see in the dark.” 

“ Mother,” cried Zillah, coming forward, “ see 
what I have found ;” and her little hands were full 
of ripe strawberries. “If it wasn’t getting so 


A BIT OF EDEN. 123 

dark I could have found more, Fm sure,” she 
added. 

” What, giving them all to me?” Miss Warren 
exclaimed, as Zillah held out her hands to her 
favorite. ” Wouldn’t it be nicer if we all had 
some ?” 

“ Who held you up to look into the robin’s 
nest?” I asked reproachfully. 

” Thee may give Richard Morton my share,” said 
the little girl, trying to make amends. 

I held out my hand, and Miss Warren gave me 
half of them. 

” Now these are mine ?” I said to Zillah. 

“Yes !” 

“ Then I’ll do what I please with them.” 

I picked out the largest, and stooping down be- 
side her, continued, “You must eat these or I 
won’t eat any.” 

“ Thee’s very like Emily Warren,” the little girl 
laughed; “thee gets around me before I know 
it.” 

“ I’ll give you all the strawberries for that com- 
pliment.” 

“ No, thee must take half.” 

“ Mrs. Yocomb, you and I will divide, too„ 
Could there possibly be a more delicious combina- 
tion 1” and Miss Warren smacked her lips apprecia- 
tively. 

“ The strawberry was evolved by a chance com- 
bination of forces,” I remarked. 

“ Undoubtedly,” added Miss Warren, “so was 
my Geneva watch. 


124 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ I like to think of the strawberry in this way,’' 
said Mrs. Yocomb. “ There are many things in 
the Scriptures hard to understand ; so there are in 
Nature. But we all love the short text, ‘ God is 
love.’ The strawberry is that text repeated in 
Nature. ” 

“ Mrs. Yocomb, you could convert infidels and 
pagans with a gospel of strawberries,” I cried. 

There are many Christians who prefer tobacco, 
said Mrs. Yocomb, laughing. 

That reminds me,” I exclaimed, ” that I have 
not smoked to day. I fear I shall fall from grace 
to-morrow, however.” 

“Yes, I imagine you will drop from the clouds 
by to morrow,” Miss Warren remarked. 

“ By the way, what a magnificent cloud that is 
rising above the horizon in the south-west. It ap- 
pears like a solitary headland in an azure sea.” 

“ Ah — h !” she said, in satirical accent. 

“ Mrs. Yocomb, Miss Warren has been laughing 
at me ever since I came. I may have to claim 
your protection.” 

“ No ! thee and father are big enough to take 
care of yourselves.” 

“ Emily Warren, is thee and Richard Morton 
both lost?” called Mr. Yocomb from the piazza. 
“ I can’t find mother either. If somebody don’t 
come soon I’ll blow the fish-horn.” 

“We’re all coming,” answered Mrs. Yocomb, 
and she led the way toward the house. 

“You have not given me a rose yet.” I said to 
Miss Warren, 


A BIT OF EDEN. 


^25 

** Must you have one ?” 

A man never uses the word ‘ must ' in seeking 
favors from a lady.” 

” Adroit policy ! Well, what kind of a one do 
you want ?” 

” I told you long ago.” 

Oh, I remember. An old-fashioned one, with 
a pronounced meaning. Here is a York and Lan- 
caster bud. That has a decided old-style mean- 
ing.” 

” It means war, does it not ?” 

” Yes.” 

” I won’t take it. Yes I will, too,” I said, a 
second later, and I took the bud from her hand, 
“You know the law of war,” I added : ” To the 
victor belong the spoils.” 

She gave me a quick glance, and after a moment 
said, a trifle coldly, 

” That remark seems bright, but it does not 
mean anything.” 

” It often means a great deal. There, I’m out 
of the garden and in the ordinary world again. I 
wonder if I shall ever have another bit of Eden in 
my life.” 

” Oh, indeed you shall. I will ask Mr. Yocomb 
to give you a day’s weeding and hoeing there.” 

” What will you do in the mean time ?” 

” Sit under the arbor and laugh at you.” 

” Agreed. But suppose it was hot and I grew 
very tired, what would you do ?” 

” I fear I would have to invite you under thp 
arbor^” 


126 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ You fear ?” 

Well, 1 would invite you if you had been of 
real service in the garden.” 

“ That would be Eden unalloyed.” 

“ Since I am not intoxicated, I cannot agree with 
you.” 


CHAPTER XL 



“ MOVED." 

M r. YOCOMB, " I said, as we mounted the 
piazza, " what is the cause of the smoke 
rising above yonder mountain to the east of us ? I 
have noticed it several times this afternoon, and it 
seems increasing." 

" That mountain was on fire on Saturday. I 
hoped the rain of last night would put it out, but 
it was a light shower, and the fire is under headway 
again. It now seems creeping up near the top of 
the mountain, for 1 think 1 sec a faint light." 

" 1 do distinctly ; the mountain begins to remind 
me of a volcano." 

" The moon will rise before very long, and you 
may be treated to a grand sight if the fire burns, as 
I fear it will." 

" This is a day of fate," I said, laughing, " and 
almost any event that could possibly happen would 
not surprise me." 

" It has seemed a very quiet day to me," said 
the old gentleman. " Neither mother nor any one 
on the high seat had a message for us this morning, 
and this afternoon I took a very long nap. If thee 
had not come and stirred us up a little, and Emily 
Warren had not laughed at us both, I would call it 
almost a dull day, as far as any peaceful day can be 
dull. Such days, however, are quite to my mind, 
and thee’ll like 'em better when thee sees my age." 


128 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“I’m inclined to think,” I replied, “that the 
great events of life would rarely make even an item 
in a newspaper. 

Mrs. Yocomb looked as if she understood me, but 
Miss Warren remarked, with a mischievous glance 

“ Personals are generally read.” 

“ Editors gossip about others, not themselves. ” 

“You admit they gossip.” 

‘ ‘ That one did little else seems your impression. 

“ News and gossip are different things ; but I’m 
glad your conscience so troubles you that you exag- 
gerate my words.” 

“ Emily Warren, thee can squabble with Richard 
Morton all day to-morrow after thy amiable fashion, 
but I’m hankering after some of thy music.’’ 

“ I will keep you waiting no longer, sir, and 
would have come before, but I did not wish you to 
see Mr. Morton while he was in a very lamentable 
condition.” 

” Why, what was the matter with him ?” asked 
Adah, who had just joined us in the lighted hall ; 
“ he seems to have very queer complaints.” 

“ He admits that he was intoxicated, and he ccr- 
tainly talked very strangely. ’ ’ 

“ Miss Adah, did I talk strangely or wildly this 
afternoon ?” 

“ No, indeed, I think you talked very nicely ; and 
I told Silas Jones that I never met a gentleman be- 
fore who looked at things so exactly as I did.” 

This was dreadful. I saw that Miss Warren was 
fvill of suppressed merriment, and v/as glad that 
Mrs, YocQinb was in the parlor lighting the lamps. 


*' MO VEDr 


129 


“ I suppose Mr. Jones was glad to hear what you 
said,” I remarked, feeling that I must say some- 
thing. 

” He may have been, but he did not look so.” 

” Mr. Yocomb, you have your daughter’s testi- 
mony that I was sober this afternoon, and since 
that time I have enjoyed nothing stronger than milk 
and the odor of your old-fashioned roses. If I was 
in a lamentable condition in the garden, Miss War- 
ren was the cause, and so is wholly to blame.” 

” Emily Warren, does thee know that thy 
mother Eve made trouble in a garden ?” 

” I’ve not the least intention of taking Mr. Mor< 
ton out of the garden. He may go back at once, 
and I have already suggested that you would give 
him plenty of hoeing and weeding there.” 

” I’m not so sure about that ; I fear he’d make 
the same havoc in my garden that I’d make in his 
newspaper.” 

” Then you think an editor has no chance for 
Eden.^” 

” Thee had better talk to mother about that. If 
there’s any chance for thee at all she’ll give thee 
hope. Now, Emily Warren, we are all ready. 
Sing some hymns that wilTgive us all hope — no, 
sing hymns of faith.” 

Adah took a seat on the sofa, and glanced en- 
couragingly at me, but I ^ound a solitary chair by 
an open window, where I could look out across the 
valley to the burning mountain, and watch the 
stars come out in the darkening sky. Within I 
faced Miss Warren’s profile and the family group. 


A DAY OF FA TF, 


r3o 

I had not exaggerated when I told Miss Warren 
that I was conscious of a fine exhilaration. Sleep 
and rest had banished all dragged and jaded feel- 
ings. For hours my mind had been tree from a 
sense of hurry and responsibility, which made it lit 
tie better than a driving machine. In the mental 
leisure and quiet which I now enjoyed I had grown 
receptive' — highly sensitive indeed — to the culmi- 
nating scenes of this memorable day. Even little 
things and common words had a significance that I 
would not have noted ordinarily, and the group be- 
fore me was not ordinary. Each character took 
form with an individuality as sharply defined as 
their figures in the somewhat dimly lighted room, 
and when I looked without into the deepening 
June night it seemed an obscure and noble back- 
ground, making the human life within more real 
and attractive. 

Miss Warren sat before her piano quietly for a 
moment, and her face grew thoughtful and earnest. 
It was evident that she was not about to perform 
some music, but that she would unite with her sin- 
cere and simple friends, Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb, in 
giving expression to feelings and truths that were 
as real to her as to them. 

“ How perfectly true she is !” I thought, as I 
noted the sweet, childlike gravity of her face. 
Then, in a voice that proved to be a sympathetic, 
pure soprano, well trained, but not at all great, she 
sang, 

“ My faith looks up to Thee.’* 

Their faith seemed very real and definite, and I 


••MOVED.'* 


could not help feeling that it would be a cruel and 
terrible thing if that pronoun “ Thee” embodied 
no living and loving personality. The light in their 
faces, like that of a planet beaming on me through 
the open window, appeared but the inevitable re- 
flection of a fuller, richer spiritual light that now 
shone full upon them. 

One hymn followed another, and Reuben, who 
soon came in, seem-ed to have several favorites. 
Little Zillah had early asked for those she liked 
best, and then her head had dropped down into her 
mother’s lap, and Miss Warren’s sweet tones be- 
came her lullaby, her innocent, sleeping face mak- 
ing another element in a picture that was outlining 
itself deeply in my memory. 

Adah, having found that she could not secure 
my attention, had fallen into something like a rev- 
erie. Very possibly she was planning out the dress 
that she meant to “cut to suit herself,” but in 
their repose her features became very beautiful 
a^ain. 

Her face to me, however, was now no more than 
a picture on the wall ; but the face of the childlike 
woman that was so wise and gifted, and yet so sim- 
ple and true, had for me a fascination that excited 
my wonder. I had seen scores of beautiful 
women — I lived in a city where they abound- 
ed— but I had never seen this type of face before. 
The truth that I had not was so vivid that it led to 
the thought that, like the first man, I had seen in 
the garden the one woman of the world, the mis- 
tress of my fate. A second later I was conscious 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


132 



of a sickening feat. To love such a woman, and 
yet not be able to win her — how could one there- 
after go on with life ! Beware Richard Morton ! 
On this quiet June evening, in this home of peace 
and the peaceful, and with hymns of love and faith 
breathed sweetly into your ears, you may be in the 
direst peril of your life. From this quiet hour may 
come the unrest of a lifetime. Then Hope whis- 
pered of better things. I said to myself, I did 
not come to this place. I wandered hither, or was 
led hither ; and to every influence of this day I 
shall yield myself. If some kindly Power has led 
me to this woman of crystal truth, I shall be the 



most egregious fool in the universe if I do not watch 
and wait for further possibilities of good.'' 

How sweet and luminous her face seemed in 
contrast with the vague darkness without ! More 
sweet and luminous would her faith be in the midst 
of the contradictions, obscurities, and evils of the 
world. The home that enshrined such a woman 
would be a refuge for a man’s tempted soul, as wel). 
as a resting-place for his tired bod)^ 

“ Sing, ‘ Tell me the Old, Old Story,’ ” said Mr. 
Yocomb, in his warm, hearty way. 

Was I a profane wretch because the thought 
would come that if I could draw, in shy, hesitating 
admission, another story as old as the world, it 
would be heavenly music ? 

Could it have been that it was my intent gaze 
and concentrated thought that made her turn sud- 
denly to me after complying with Mr. Yocomb’s 
request ? She colored slightly as she met my eyes. 


moved:' 


13:5 


but said quietly, “ Mr. Morton, you have expressed 
no preference yet.” 

“I have enjoyed everything you have sung,” I 
replied, and I quietly sustained her momentary and 
direct gaze. 

She seemed satisfied, and smiled as she said, 
” Thank you, but you shall have your preference 


also. ” 


” Miss Warren, you have sung some little time, 
and perhaps your voice is tired. Do you play Cho- 
pin’s* Twelfth Nocturne } That seems to me like a 
prayer. ’ ’ 

“I’m glad you like that,” she said, with a 
pleased, quick glance. ” I play it every Sunday 
night when I am alone.” 

{ A few moments later and we were all under the 
spell of that exquisite melody which can fitly give 
expression to the deepest and tenderest feelings 
and most sacred aspirations of the heart.^ 

'^Did I say all? I was mistaken. Adah’s long 
lashes were drooping, her face was heavy with 
sleep, and it suggested flesh and blood, and flesh 
and blood o 



Miss Warren s eyes, in contrast, were moist, her 
mouth tremulous with feeling, and her face was a 
beautiful transparency, through which shone those 
traits which already made her, to me, pre-eminent 
among women. 

I saw Mrs. Yocomb glance from one girl to 
the other, then close her eyes, while a strong ex- 
pression of pain passed over her face. Her lips 


*Opus 37, No. 2 . Schubert’s Edition. 


134 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


moved, and she undoubtedly was speaking to One 
near to her, though so far, seemingly, from most of 
us. 

A little later there occurred one or two exquisite 
movements in the prayer harmony, and I turned to 
note their effect on Mrs. Yocomb, and was greatly 
struck by her appearance. She was looking fixedly 
into space, and her face had assumed a rapt, ear- 
nest, seeking aspect, as if she were trying to see 
something half hidden in the far distance. With a 
few rich chords the melody ceased. Mr. Yocomb 
glanced at his wife, then instantly folded his hands 
and assumed an attitude of reverent expectancy. 
Reuben did likewise. At the cessation of the 
music Adah opened her eyes, and by an instinct or 
habit seemed to know what to expect, for her face 
regained the quiet repose it had worn at the meet- 
ing-house in the morning. 

Miss Warren turned toward Mrs. Yocomb, and 
sat with bowed head. For a few moments we re- 
mained in perfect silence. There was a faint flash 
of light, followed after an interval by a low, deep 
reverberation. The voices in nature seemed heavy 
and threatening. The sweet, gentle monotone of 
the woman’s voice, as she began to speak, was 
divine in contrast. Slowly she enunciated the sen- 
tences, 

“ What I do, thou knowest not now : but thou 
shalt know hereafter.” 

After a pause she continued: “As the dear 
young friend was playing, these words were borne 
in upon my mind. They teach the necessity of faith. 


MOVEDr 


135 

Thanks be to the God of heaven and earth, that 
he who spake these words is so worthy of the faith 
he requires ! The disciple of old could not always 
understand his Lord ; no more can we. We often 
shrink from that which is given in love, and grasp 
at that which would destroy. Though but little, 
weak, erring children, we would impose on the all- 
wise God our way, instead of meekly accepting his 
way.^ Surely, the One who speaks has a right to 
do what pleases his divine will. He is the sover- 
eign One, the Lord of lords ; and though he slay 
me, yet will I trust in him. 

“ But though it is a King that speaks, he does 
not speak as a king. He is talking to his friends ; 
he is serving them with a humility and meekness 
that no sinful mortal has surpassed. He is prov- 
ing, by the plain, simple teaching of actions, that 
we are not merely his subjects, but his brethren, his 
sisters ; and that with him we shall form one house- 
hold of faith, one family in God. He is teaching 
the sin of arrogance and the folly of pride. He is 
proving, for all time, that serving — not being serv- 
ed — is God’s patent of nobility. We should not 
despise the lowliest, for none can stoop so far as he 
stooped.” 

Every few moments her low, sweet voice had, as 
an accompaniment, distant peals of thunder, that 
after every interval rolled nearer and jarred heavier 
among the mountains. More than once I saw Miss 
Warren start nervously, and glance apprehensively 
at the open window v licre I sat, and through which 
the lightning gleamed with increasing vividness. 


1^6 


A jj AY OF Fa TF. 


Adah maintained the same utterly quiet, imp assive^ 
face, and it seemed to me that she heard nothing 
and thought of nothing. Her eyes were open ; 
her mind was asleep. (She appeared an exquisite 
breathing combination of flesh and blood, and noth- 
ing more^ Reuben looked at his mother with an 
expression of simple affection ; but one felt that 
he did not realize very deeply what she was say- 
ing ; but Mr. Yocomb’s face glowed with an honest 
faith and strong approval. 

“The Master said,” continued Mrs. Yocomb, 
after one of the little pauses that intervened be- 
tween her trains of thought, “ ‘What I do, thou 
knowest not now.’ There he might have stopped. 
Presuming is the subject that asks his king for the 
why and wherefore of all that he does. The king 
is the highest of all ; and if he be a king in truth, 
he sees the farthest of all. It is folly for those be- 
neath the throne to expect to see so far, or to un- 
derstand why the king, in his far-reaching provi- 
dence, acts in a way mysterious to them. Our King 
is kingly, and he sees the end from the beginning. 
His plans reach through eternities. Why should 
he ever be asked to explain to such as we ? Never- 
theless, to the fishermen of Galilee, and to us, he 
does say, ‘ Thou shalt know hereafter.’ 

“ The world is full of evil. We meet its sad 
mysteries on every side, in every form. It often 
touches us very closely — ” For a moment some 
deep emotion choked her utterance. Involuntarily, 
I glanced at Adah. Her eyes were drooping a lit- 
tle heavily again, and her bosom rose and fell in 


•‘MOFEVr 


the long, quiet breath of complete repose. Miss 
Warren was regarding the suffering mother with 
the face of a pitying angel. 

“And its evils are evil,” resumed the sad- 
hearted woman, in a tone that was full of sup- 
pressed anguish ; “at least, they seem so, and I 
don’t understand them — I can’t understand them, 
nor why they are permitted ; but he has promised 
that good shall come out of the evil, and has said, 
I^Thou shalt know hereafter.’ Oh, blessed here- 
after ! when all clouds shall have rolled away, and 
in the brightness of my Lord’s presence every mys- 
tery that now troubles me shall be made clear. 
Dear Lord, I await thine own time. Do what 
seemeth good in thine own eyes and she meekly 
folded her hands and bowed her head. For a mo- 
ment or two there was the same impressive silence 
that fell upon us before she spoke. Then a louder 
and nearer peal of thunder awakened Zillah, who 
raised her head from her mother’s lap and looked 
wonderingly around, as if some one had called her. 

Never had I witnessed such a scene before, and I 
turned toward the darkness that I might hide the 
evidence of feelings that I could not control. 

A second later I sprang to my feet, exclaiming, 
“ Wonderful !” 

Miss Warren came toward me with apprehension 
in her face, but I saw that she noted my moist 
eyes. 

I hastened from the room, saying, “ Come out on 
the lawn, all of you, for we may now witness a 
scene that is grand indeed.” ^ 


CHAPTER XII. 

ONE OF nature’s TRAGEDIES. 

I HAD been so interested in Mrs. Yocomb’s 
words, their effect on the little group around 
her, and the whole sacred mystery of the scene, 
that I had ceased to watch the smoking mountain, 
with its increasingly lurid apex. In the mean time 
the fire had fully reached the summit, on which 
stood a large dry tree, and it had become a 
skeleton of flame. Through this lurid fire and 
smoke the full moon was rising, its silver disk dis- 
colored and partially obscured. 

This scene alone, as we gathered on the piazza 
and lawn below it, might well have filled us with 
awe and wonder ; but a more impressive combina- 
tion was forming. Advancing from the south-west, 
up the star-lit sky, which the moon was brighten- 
ing momentarily, was a cloud whose blackness and 
heaviness the vivid lightning made only the more 
apparent. 

“ I am an old man,” said Mr. Yocomb, ” but I 
never saw anything so grand as this before.” 

” Mother, mother,” said little Zillah, “I’m 
afraid. Please take me up-stairs and put me to 
bed.” And the mother, to whom the scene in the 
heavens was a glorious manifestation of the God 
she loved rather than feared, denied herself of what 
was almost like a vision, for the sake of the child. 

” It’s awful,” said Adah ; “I won’t look at it 


ONE OF NATURE'S TRAGEDIES, 139 

any longer. I don’t see why we can’t have nice 
quiet showers that one can go to sleep in and 
she disappeared within the house. Reuben sat down 
on the piazza, in his quiet, undemonstrative way. 

Miss Warren came down and stood close to Mn 
Yocomb’s side, as if she half-unconsciously sought 
the good man’s protection. 

Incessant lightnings played from some portion of 
the cloud, zigzagging in fiery links and forkings, 
while, at brief intervals, there would be an excep- 
tionally vivid flash, followed more and more close- 
ly by heavier and still heavier explosions. But 
not a leaf stirred around us : the chirp of a cricket 
was sharply distinct in the stillness. The stars 
shone serenely over our heads, and the moon, rising 
to the left out of the line cf the smoke and fire, 
was assuming her silvery brightness, and at the 
same time rendering the burning mountain more 
lurid from contrast. 

“ Herbert, Herbert, now I know how brave you 
were," I heard Miss Warren exclaim, in alow, awed 
tone. 

I saw by the frequent flashes that she was very 
pale, and that she was trembling. 

" You mean your brother," I said gently. 

With her eyes fixed on the threatening and ad- 
vancing cloud as if fascinated by it, she continued 
in the same tone, that was full of indescribable 
dread, 

" Yes, yes, I never realizC'd it so fully before, and 
yet I have lain awake whole nights, going, by an 
3.wful necessity, over every scene of that terrible 


140 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


day. He stood in his place in the line of battle 
on an open plain, and he watched battery after 
battery come down from the heights above and 
open fire. He stood there till he was slain, looking 
steadily at death. This cloud that is coming makes 
me understand the more awful storm of war that 
he faced. Oh, I wish this hadn’t happened,” and 
there was almost agony in her tone. “I’m not 
brave as he was, and every nearer peal of thunder 
shakes my very soul.” 

Mr. Yocomb put his hand tenderly on her shoul- 
der as he said. 



” My dear, foolish little child -^as if thy Father 


in heaven would hurt theeJJ^ 


” Miss Warren,” I said earnestly, ” I have too 
little of Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb’s faith ; but it 
seems impossible that anything coming from 
heaven could harm you.” 

She drew closer to Mr. Yocomb’s side, but still 
looked at the cloud with the same wide-eyed dread, 
as if spell-bound by it. 

“To me,” she resumed in her former tone, that 
only became more hurried and full of fear as the 
tempest approached, ” these awful storms are no 
part of heaven. They are wholly of earth, and 
seem the counterparts of those wild outbreaks of 
human passion from which I and so many poor 
women in the past have suffered and a low sob 
shook her frame. ” I wish I had more of good Mr. 
Yocomb’s spirit ; for this appalling cloud seems to 
me the very incarnation of evil. Why does God 
permit such things ?” 


ONE OF NATURE'S TRACE DIES. 141 

With a front as calm and serene as that of any 
ancient prophet could have been» Mr. Yocomb be- 
gan repeating the sublime words, " The voice of 
Thy thunder was in the heavens ; the lightnings 
lightened the world.” 1 

“ Oh, no, no !” cried the trembling girl, “ the 
God I worship is not in the storm nor in the fire, 
but in the still small voice of love. You may think 
me very weak to be so moved, but truly I cannot 
help it. My whole nature shrinks from this.” 

I took her hand as I said warmly, ” I do under- 
stand you, Miss Warren. Unconsciously you have 
fully explained your mood and feeling. It’s in 
truth your nature, your sensitive, delicate organ- 
ism, that shrinks from this wild tumult that is com- 
ing. In the higher moral tests of courage, when 
the strongest man might falter and fail, you would 
be quietly steadfast.’^ 

She gave my hand a quick, strong pressure, and 
then withdrew it as she said, ” I hope you are 
right ; you interpret me so generously that I hope 
I may some day prove you right.” 

” I need no proof. I saw your very self in the 
garden. ” 

” How strange — how strange it all is !” she re- 
sumed, with a manner that betokened a strong ner- 
vous excitability. ” Can this be the same world — 
these the same scenes that were so full of peace 
and beauty an hour ago ? How tremendous is the 
contrast between the serene, lovely June day and 
evening just passed and this coming tempest, 
whose sullen roar I already hear with increasing 


142 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


dread ^ Mr. Morton, you said in jest that this was 
a day of fate. Why did you use the expression ? 
It hc'.unts me, oppresses me. Possibly it is. I 
rarely give way to presentiments, but I dread the 
coming of this storm inexpressibly. Oh !” and 
she trembled violently as a heavier peal than we 
had yet heard filled the wide valley with awful 
echoes. 

“ Not even a sparrow shall fall to the ground 
without your Father. We are safe, my child. i(jod 
will shield thee more lovingly than I and he 
drew her closer to him. ^ 

“ I know what you say is true, and yet I cannot 
control this mortal fear and weakness.” 

” No, Miss Warren, you cannot,” I said ; 
” therefore do not blame yourself. You tremble 
as these trees and shrubs will be agitated in a few 
moments, because you cannot help it.” 

” You are not so moved.” 

” No, nor will that post be moved,” I replied, 
with a reckless laugh. ” I must admit that 1 am 
very much excited, however, for the air is full of 
electricity. I can’t help thinking of the little rob- 
ins in a home open to the sky.” 

Her only answer was a low sob, but not for a 
moment did she take her wide, terror-stricken gaze 
from the cloud whose slow, deliberate advance was 
more terrible than gusty violence would have been. 

The phenomena had now become so awful that 
we did not speak again for some moments. The 
great inky mass was extending toward the east- 
ward, and approaching the fi^e burning on the 


ONE OF NATURE'S TRAGEDIES. 143 

mountain-top, and the moon rising above and to 
the left of it ; and from beneath its black shadow 
came a heavy, muffled sound that every moment 
deepened and intensified. 

Suddenly, as if shaken by a giant’s hands, the 
tree-tops above us swayed to and fro ; then the 
shrubbery along the paths seemed full of wild ter- 
ror and writhed in every direction. 

Hitherto the moon had shone on the cloud with 
as serene a face as that with which Mr. Yocomb 
had watched its approach, but now a scud of vapor 
swept like a sudden pallor across her disk, giving 
one the odd impression that she had just realized 
her peril, and then an abyss of darkness swallowed 
her up. For a few moments longer the fire burned 
on, and then the cloud with its torrents settled 
down upon it, and the luridly luminous point be- 
came opaque. 

The night now alternated between utter dark- 
ness and a glare in which every leaf and even the 
color of the tossing roses were distinct. 

After the first swirl of wind passed, there fell 
upon nature round us a silence that was like breath 
less expectation, or the cowering from a blow that 
cannot be averted, and through the stillness the 
sound of the advancing tempest came with awful 
distinctness, while far back among the mountains 
the deep reverberations scarcely ceased a moment. 

Broken masses of vapor, the wild skirmish line of 
the storm, passed over our heads, blotting out the 
stars. The trees and shrubbery were bending help- 
lessly to the gust, and Miss Warren could scarcely 


f44 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


stand before its violence. The great elm swayed 
its drooping branches over the house as if to protect 
it. The war and whirl of the tempest was all 
about us, the coming rain reminded one of the re- 
sounding footsteps of an innumerable host, and 
Treat drops fell here and there like scattering shots. 

“ Come in, my child,” said Mr. Yocomb, ” the 
storm will soon be passed, and thee and the robins 
shall yet have quiet sleep to-night. Tve seen 
many such wild times among the mountains, and 
nothing worse than clearer skies and better grain 
followed. You will hear the robins singing — ” 

A blinding flash of lightning, followed by such a 
crash as I hope I may never hear again, prevented 
further reassuring words, and he had to half sup- 
port her into the house. 

I had never been in a battle, but I know that the 
excitement which mastered me must have been 
akin to the grand exaltation of conflict, wherein a 
man thinks and acts by moments as if they were 
hours and years. Well he may, when any moment 
may end his life. But the thought of death 
scarcely entered my mind. I had no presentiment 
of harm to myself, but feared that the dwelling or 
out-buildings might be struck. 

Almost with the swiftness of lightning came the 
calculation : 

“ Estimating distance and time, the next discharge 
of electricity will be directly over the house. If 
there’s cause, which God forbid, may I have the 
nerve and power to serve those who have been sp 
kind!” 


ONE OF NATURE'S TRAGEDIES. 145 

As T tfiouglit, T ran to an open space which com- 
manded a view of the farm-house. Scarcely had 1 
reached it before my eyes were blinded fora second 
by what seemed a ball of intense burning light shot 
vertically into the devoted home. 

“ O God !” I gasped, “it is the day of fate.” 
For a moment I seemed paralyzed, but the igniting 
roof beside the chimney roused me at once. 

“ F.euben !“ I shouted. 

A flash of lightning revealed him still seated 
quietly on the piazza, as if he had heard noth- 
ing. I rushed forward, and shook him by the 
shoulder. 

“Come, be a man; help me. Quick!” and I 
half dragged him to a neighboring cherry-tree, 
against which I had noticed that a ladder rested. 

By this time he seemed to recover his senses,, and 
in less than a moment we had the ladder against 
the house. Within another moment he had 
brought me a pail of water from the kitchen. 

“ Have two more pails ready,” I cried, mounting 
the low, sloping roof. 

The water I carried, and rain, which now began 
to fall in torrents, extinguished the external fire, 
but I justly feared that the wood-work had been 
ignited within. Hastening back at perilous speed, 
I said to Reuben, who stood ready, “ Take one of 
the pails and lead the way to the attic and the 
rooms up stairs.” 

The house was strangely and awfully quiet as we 
rushed in. 

I paused a second at the parlor door. Miss 


146 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


Warren lay motionless upon the floor, and Mr. 
Vocomb sat quietly in his great arm-chair. 

A sickening fear almost overwhelmed me, but I 
exclaimed loudly, “ Mr. Yocomb, rouse yourself ; I 
smell fire ; the house is burning 

He did not move nor answer, and I followed 
Reuben, who was half way up the stairs. It took 
but a few seconds to reach the large, old-fashioned 
garret, which already was filling with smoke. 

“Lead the way to the chminey,” I shouted to 
Reuben in my terrible excitement. “ Do not waste 
a drop of water. Let me put it on when I find just 
where the fire is.” 

Through the smoke I now saw a lurid point. A 
stride brought me thither, and I threw part of the 
water in my pail up against it. The hissing and 
sputtering proved that we had hit on the right 
spot, while the torrents falling on the roof so damp- 
ened the shingles that further ignition from without 
was impossible. 

“ We must go down a moment to breathe,” I 
gasped, for the smoke was choking us. 

As we reached the story in which were the sleep- 
ing apartments, I cried, 

“ Great God ! Why don’t some of the family 
move or speak ?’ ’ 

Hitherto Reuben had realized only the peril of 
his home ; but now he rushed into his mother’s 
room, calling her in a tone that I shall never 
forget. 

A second later he uttered my name in a strange, 
awed tone, and I entered hesitatingly. Little 



“ I THRp:W PART OF THE WATER IN MY PaIL UP AGAINST IT. 


Day of Fate. 


Page 146. 





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ONE OF NATURE'S TRAGEDIES. 147 

Zillah apparently lay sleeping in her crib, and Mrs. 
Yocomb was kneeling by her bedside. 

Mother !” said Reuben, in a loud whisper. 

She did not answer. 

He knelt beside her, put his arm around her, and 
said, close to her ear, “ Mother ! why don’t you 
speak to me She made no response, and I saw 
that she leaned so heavily forward on the bed as to 
indicate utter unconsciousness. 

The boy sprang up, and gazed at me with wild 
questioning in his eyes. 

“ Reuben !” I said quickly, “ she’s only stunned 
by the lightning. Will you prove yourself a man, 
and help me in what must be done ? Life may de- 
pend upon it.” 

” Yes,” eagerly. 

“Then help me lift your mother on the bed; 
strong and gentle, now — that’s it.” 

I put my hand over her heart. 

“ She is not dead,” I exclaimed joyously ; “ only 
stunned. Let us go to the attic again, for we 
must keep shelter this wild night.” 

We found that the smoke had perceptibly les- 
sened ; I dashed the other pail of water on the spot 
that had been burning, then found that I could 
place my hand on it. We had been just in time, for 
there was light wood-work near that communicated 
with the floor, and the attic was full of dry lumber, 
and herbs hanging here and there, that would have 
burned like tinder. Had these been burning we 
could not have entered the garret, and as it was we 
breathed with great difficulty. The roof still re- 


148 


A DAY OF FA TB, 


sounded to the fall of such torrents that I felt that 
the dwelling was safe, unless it had become ignited 
in the lower stories, and it was obviously our next 
duty to see whether this was the case. 

“ Reuben,” I said, “ fill the pails once more, 
while I look through the house and see if there’s 
fire anywhere else. It ’s clear that all who were in 
the house were stunned — even yon were, slightly, 
on the piazza — so don’t give way to fright on their 
''ccount. If you do 's I bid, you may do much to 
save their lives ; hul we must first make sure the 
house is safe. If it isn’t, we must carry them all 
out a': once. 

He comprehended me, and went for the water in- 
stantly. 

I again looked into Mrs. Yocomb’s room. It was 
impregnated w'th a strong sulphurous odor, and I 
now saw that there was a discolored line down the 
wall adjoining fhe chimney, and that little Zillah’s 
crib stood nearer the scorching line of fire than 
Mrs. Yocomb had been. But the child looked quiet 
and peaceful, and I hastened away. 

My own room was dark and safe. I opened the 
door of Miss Warren’s room, and a flash of light- 
ning, followed by complete darkness, showed that 
nothing was amiss. 

I then opened another door, and first thought 
the apartment on fire, it was so bright ; but in- 
stantly saw that two lamps were burning, and that 
Adah lay dressed upon the bed, with her face 
turned toward them. By this common device she 
had sought to deaden the vivid lightning. Her face 


ONE OF NATURE'S TRAGEDIES. 149 

was white as the pillow on which it rested ; her 
eyes were closed, and from her appearance she might 
have been sleeping or dead. Even though almost 
overwhelmed with dread, I could not help noting 
her wonderful beauty. In my abnormal and ex- 
cited condition of mind, however, it seemed a 
natural and essential part of the strange, unex- 
pected experiences of the day. 

I was now convinced that there was no fire in the 
second story, and the thought of Miss Warren drew 
me instantly away. I already had a strange sense 
of self-reproach that I had not gone to her at once, 
feeling as if I had discarded the first and most sa- 
cred claim. I met Reuben on the stairway, and 
told him that the second story was safe, and asked 
him to look through the first story and cellar, and 
then to go for a physician as fast as the fleetest 
horse could carry him. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE LIGHTNING AND A SUBTLER FLAME. 

N entering the parlor, I found Mr. Yocomb 



standing up and looking around in a dazed 
manner. He did not seem to know me, and in 
my deep anxiety I did not heed him. Kneel- 
ing beside Miss Warren I found that her pulse was 
very feeble. I lifted her gently upon the sofa, and 
threw open a window, so that the damp, gusty 
wind, full of spray from the r^in, might blow in 
upon her. 

Mr. Yocomb laid his hand heavily on my shoul- 
der, and asked, in a thick voice, “ What does it all 
mean 

I saw that he was deathly pale, and that he tot- 
tered. Taking his arm, I supported him to a 
lounge in the hall, and said, “ Mr. Yocomb, you 
were taken ill. You must lie down quietly till the 
physician comes.” 

He seemed so confused and unable to think that 
he accepted my explanation. Indeed, he soon be- 
came so ill from the effects of the shock that he 
could not rise. 

Again I knelt at Miss Warren’s side, and began 
chafing her hands ; but the cool wind and spray did 
the most to revive her. She opened her eyes, 
looked at me fixedly a few moments, and then tried 
to rise. 

” Please keep quiet,” I said, “till I bring you 


LIGHTNING AND A SUBTLER FLAME. 151 

some brandy and I hastened to my room, tore 
open my valise, and was soon moistening her lips 
from a small flask. After swallowing a little she 
regained self-possession rapidly. 

“ What happened ?” she asked. 

“ I fear you swooned.” 

She passed her hand over her brow, and looked 
around as if in search of some one, then said, 
“ Where is Mrs. Yocomb ?” 

” She is in her room with Zillah. ” 

” Please let me go to her and she again 
essayed to rise. 

” Miss Warren,” I said gently, ” I have no 
right to ask a favor of you, but I will thank you 
very much if you will just remain quietly on this 
sofa till you are better. You remember we had a 
frightful storm. I never knew such heavy thun- 
der.” 

“Ah ! there it is again,” she said, shuddering, 
as a heavy peal rolled away to the north. 

” Miss Warren, you said once to-day that you 
could trust me. You can. I assure you the storm 
is past ; there is no more danger from it, but there 
is danger unless you do as I bid you. Remain 
quietly here till you have recovered from —from 
your nervous prostration. I happen to have some 
knowledge in a case of this kind, and I know that 
much depends on your being quiet for an hour or 
more. You need not be alarmed if you do as I bid 
you. I will see to it that some one is within call 
all the time ;” and I tried to speak cheerfully and 
decisively. 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


152 

She smiled as she said, “ Since you have as* 
sumed the role of doctor, I’ll obey, for I know how 
arbitrary the profession is.” 

Then she again reclined wearily on the sofa, and 
I went out, closing the door. 

I found Reuben beside his father, who certainly 
needed care, for the terrible nausea which attends 
recovery from a severe shock from electricity had 
set in. 

” Reuben,” I urged, do for the doctor ; I’ll 
do everything for your father that I can, but we 
must have a good physician at once. Go in your 
buggy as fast as you can drive in the dark — can’t 
you take a lantern ? — and bring the doctor with you. 
First tell him what has happened, so that he can 
bring the proper remedies. Be a man, Reuben ; 
much depends on you to-night.” 

Within five minutes I heard the swift feet of 
Dapple splash out upon the road. The night was 
growing still and close, and the gusts occurred at 
longer intervals. The murky cloud had covered 
the sky, utterly obscuring the moonlight, and there 
was a steady and heavy fall of rain. 

After Reuben had gone, a terrible sense of iso- 
lation and helplessness oppressed me. I remem- 
bered strange tales of lightning and its effects that 
I had heard. Would the mother and her two 
daughters survive ? Was Mr. Yocomb seriously 
ill ? But I found that the anxiety which tortured 
me most was in behalf of the one who gave the best 
promise of speedy recovery ; and it was my chief 
hope that she would remain quietly where I had left 


LIGHTNING AND A SUBTLER FLAME. 153 

her till the physician arrived. I had pretended to a 
far greater knowledge than I possessed, since in 
truth I had had very little experience in illness. If 
Miss Warren .should leave the parlor, and thus learn 
that the farmhouse might become the scene of an 
awful tragedy, the effect upon her would probably 
be disastrous in the extreme. 

These and like thoughts were coursing swiftly 
through my mind as I waited upon Mr. Yocomb, 
and sought to give him relief. 

“Ice!” he gasped ; “ it’s in cellar. ” 

I snatched up the candle that Reuben had left 
burning on the hall-table, and went for it The 
place was strange, and I was not as quick and deft 
as many others would have been, and so was absent 
some moments. 

Great was my surprise and consternation when I 
returned, for Miss Warren stood beside Mr. Yo- 
comb, holding his head. 

“ Why are you here ?” I asked, and my tone and 
manner betokened deep trouble. 

“I’m better,” she said, quietly and firmly. 

“ Miss Warren,” I remonstrated, “ I won’t an- 
swer for the consequences if you don’t go back to 
the parlor and remain there till the doctor comes. 
I know what I’m about.” 

“ You don’t look as if master of the situation. 
You are haggard — you seem half desperate — ” 

“ I’m anxious about you, and if — ” 

“ Mr. Morton, you are far more anxious about 
others. I’ve had time to think. A swoon is not 
such a desperate affair. You guessed rightly — a 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


iS4 

thunder-storm prostrates me, but as it passes I am 
myself again.” 

After aiding Mr. Yocomb to recline feebly on the 
lounge, she came to the table where I was breaking 
the ice, and said, in a low tone, 

“ Something very serious has happened.” 

I could not look at her. I dared not to speak 
even, for I was oppressed with the dr-ead of a worse 
tragedy. With her morbid fear of lightning she 
might almost lose her reason if now, in her weak, 
unnerved condition, she saw its effect on Mrs. Yo- 
comb and Adah. 

” Mother,” moaned Mr. Yocomb ; ” why don’t 
mother come ?” 

” She’s with Zillah up-stairs,” I faltered. ” Zil- 
lah’sill!” 

” Then why does not Adah come to her father ?” 
Miss Warreo^q^uestioned, looking at me keenly. 

I felt that disguise was useless. 

” Mr. Morton, your hand so trembles that you 
can scarcely break the ice. Something dreadful 
has happened — there’s the smell of smoke and fire 
in the house. Tell me, tell me !” and she laid 
her hand appealingly on my arm. 

” Oh, Miss Warren,” I groaned, ” let me shield 
you. If further harm should come to you to- 
night — ” 

” Further harm will come unless you treat me as 
a woman, not as a child,” she said firmly. ” I 
know you mean it kindly, and no doubt I have 
seemed weak enough to warrant any amount of 
shielding.” 


LIGHTNING AND A SUBTLER FLAME. 15 $ 

At this moment there came a peal of thunder 
from the passing storm, and she sank shudderingly 
into a chair. As it passed she sprang up and said, 

“ I can’t help that, but I can and will help you. 
I understand it all. The house has been struck, and 
Zillah, Adah, and Mr. Yocomb have been hurt. 
Let me feed Mr*; Yocomb with the ice. Are you 
sure he should have ice ? I would give him brandy 
first if I had my way, but you said you knew — ” 

“ Miss Warren, I don’t know — I’m in mortal 
terror in behalf of the family but my chief dread 
has been that you would come to know the truth, 
and now I can’t keep it from you. If you can 
be brave and strong enough to help me in this 
emergency, I will honor you and thank you every 
day of my life.” 

” Mother ! mother ! why doesn’t mother come ?” 
Mr. Yocomb called. 

Miss Warren gave me a swift glance that was as 
reassuring as sunlight, and then went quietly into 
the parlor. A moment later she was giving Mr. 
Yocomb brandy and water, and quieting him with 
low, gentle words. 

” You remember, Mr. Yocomb,” she said, ” that 
Zillah was greatly frightened by the storm. You 
would not have the mother leave the child just yet. 
Mr. Morton, will you go up-stairs and see if I can 
be of any assistance ? I will join you there as soon 
as I have made Mr. Yocomb a little more comfort- 
able,” and she went to the parlor and brought out 
another pillow, and then threw open the hall-door 
in order that her patient might ’^-ve more air, for 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


156 

he respired slowly and laboriously. Her words 
seemed to quiet him, and he gave himself into her 
hands. I looked at her wonderingly for a moment, 
then said, in a low tone, 

“ You are indeed a woman and a brave one. I 
recognize my superior officer, and resign command 
at once.” 

She shook her head as she gave me a glimmer of 
a smile, but urged, in a whisper, ■” Hasten, we must 
not lose a moment.” 

I swiftly mounted the stairs, relieved of my chief 
anxiety. 

Through the open door I saw Adah’s fair white 
face. She had not stirred. I now ventured in and 
spoke to her, but she was utterly unconscious. 
Taking her hand I was overjoyed to find a feeble 
pulse. 

” It may all yet be well. God grant it,” I mut- 
tered. 

” He will,” said Miss Warren, who had joined me 
almost immediately ; ” this is not a day of fate, I 
trust ;” and she began moistening Adah’s lips with 
brandy, and trying to cause her to swallow a little, 
while I chafed her pretty hands and rubbed brandy 
on her wrists. 

” It seems to me as if an age, crpwded with 
events, had elapsed since I started on my aimless 
walk this morning,” I said, half in soliloquy. 

” That you were directed hither will be cause for 
lasting gratitude. Was not the house on fire ?” 

” Yes, but Reuben was invaluable. He was out 
on the piazza, and so w^s not hurt,” 


LIGHTNING AND A SUBTLER FLAME. 157 

“Was Mrs. Yocomb hurt?” she asked, looking 
at me in wild alarm. 

“Please do not fail me,” I entreated; “you 
have been so brave thus far. Mrs. Yocomb will 
soon revive, I think. You were unconscious at 
first.” 

She now realized the truth that Mrs. Yocomb 
was not caring for Zillah, and hastened to their 
room, impelled by an overmastering affection for 
the woman who had treated her with motherly 
kindness. 

I followed her, and assured her that her friend was 
living. It needed but a moment to see that this 
was true, but little Zillah scarcely gave any sign of 
life. Both were unconscious. 

The young girl now looked at me as if almost 
overwhelmed, and said, in a low shuddering tone, 
“ This is awful — far worse than I feared ; I do wish 
the doctor was here.” 

“ He must be here soon. I know you won’t give 
way. In great emergencies a true woman is great. 
You may save — ” 

A thunder - peal from the retreating storm 
drowned my words. She grew white, and would 
have fallen had I not caught her and supported her 
to a chair. 

“ Give me — a few moments,” she gasped, “ and 
I’ll be — myself again. This shock is awful. Why, 
we would all have burned up— had you not put the 
fire out,” and her eyes dilated with horror. 

“ We have no time for words,” I said brusquely. 
“ Here, take this brandy, and then let us dp every- 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


ISS 

thing in our power to save life. I scarcely know 
what to do, but something must be done. If 
we can only do the right thing, all may yet be 
well.” 

In a moment the weakness passed, and she was 
her brave, quiet self once more. 

” I won’t fail you again,” she said resolutely, as 
she tried to force a little brandy between Mrs. 
Yocomb’s pallid lips. 

” You are a genuine woman,” I replied heartily, 
as I chafed Mrs. Yocomb’s wrists with the spirits ; 
” I know how terrible the ordeal has been for you, 
and most young ladies would have contributed to 
the occasion nothing but hysterics.’^ 

” And you feared I would.” 

” I feared worse. You are morbidly timid in a 
thunder-storm, and I dreaded your learning what 
you now know, beyond measure.” 

“You were indeed burdened,” she said, looking 
at me with strong sympathy. 

“ No matter. If you can keep up and suffer no 
ill consequences from this affair, I believe that the 
rest will come through all right. After all, they 
are affected only physically, but you — ” 

“ I have been a little weak-minded. I know it, 
but if it doesn’t thunder any more I’ll keep up. 
Ever since I was a child the sound of thunder par- 
alyzed me. Thank God, Mrs. Yocomb is beginning 
to revive. ” 

“ I will leave her in your care, and see if I can do 
anything for Mr. Yocomb. I thus show that I 
trust you fully.” 


LIGHTNING AND A SUBTLER FLAME. 159 

As I passed out I heard a faint voice call, 
“ Mother !” 

Going to the door of Adah's room I saw that she 
was conscious, and feebly trying to rise. As I en- 
tered she looked at me in utter bewilderment, then 
shrank with instinctive fear from the presence of a 
seeming intruder. I saw the impulse of her half- 
conscious mind, and called Miss Warren, who 
came at once, and her presence seemed reassur- 
ing. 

“ What’s the matter ?" she asked, with the same 
thick utterance that I had noted in Mr. Yocomb’s 
voice. It seemed as if the organs of speech were 
partially paralyzed. 

“ You have been ill, my dear, but now you are 
much better. The doctor will be here soon,” Miss 
Warren said soothingly. 

She seemed to comprehend the words imper- 
fectly, and turned her wondering eyes toward me. 

” Oh that the doctor would come !” I groaned. 
” Here you have two on your hands, and Mr. Yo- 
comb is calling.” 

” Who’s that ?” asked Adah, feebly pointing to 
me. 

“You remember Mr. Morton,” Miss Warren 
said quietly, bathing the girl’s face with cologne. 

“ You brought him home from meeting this morn- 

• > > 

mg. 

The girl’s gazp vvas so fixed and peculiar that it 
held me a moment, and gave the odd impression of 
the strong curiosity of one waking up in a new 
world. Suddenly she closed her eyes and fell back 


6o 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


faint and sick. At that moment, above the sound 
of the rain, I heard the quick splash of a horse’s 
feet, and hastened down to greet the doctor. 

In a few hasty words I added such explanation of 
the catastrophe as Reuben’s partial account ren- 
dered necessary, and by the time I had finished we 
were at Mrs. Yocomb’s door. Mr. Yocomb seemed 
sufficiently at rest to be left for a while. 

“ This is Miss Warren,” I said. ” She will be 
your invaluable assistant, but you must be careful 
1 of her, since she, too, ha's stjffered very severely, 
and, I fear, is keeping up on the strength of her 
brave will, mainly.” 

The physician, fortunately, was a good one, and 
his manner gave us confidence from the start. 

” I think I understand the affair sufficiently,” he 
said ; ” and the best thing you can do for my pa- 
tients, and for Miss Warren also, Mr. Morton, is to 
have some strong black coffee made as soon as pos- 
sible. That will now prove an invaluable remedy, 
I think.” 

” I’ll show you where the coffee is,” Miss War- 
ren added promptly. ” Unfortunately — perhaps 
fortunately — Mrs. Yocomb let the woman who 
assisted her go away for the night. Had she 
been here she might have been another burden.” 

Even though I had but a moment or two in the 
room, I saw that the doctor was anxious about lit- 
tle Zillah. 

As Miss Warren waited on me I said earnestly, 

What a godsend you are !” 

No/’ she replied with a tone and glance that, 


tlGHTNING AND A SUBTLER FLAME, l6i 

to me, was sweeter and more welcome than all the 
June sunshine of that day. “ I was here, and you 
were sent.” Then her eyes grew full of dread, re- 
minding me of the gaze she had bent on the storm 
before which she had cowered. ” The house was 
on fire,” she said ; ” we were all helpless — uncon- 
scious. You saved us. I begin to realize it all.” 

” Come, Miss Warren, you now are ‘ seeing dou- 
ble.’ Here, Reuben,” I said to the young fellow, 
who came dripping in from the barn, ” I want to 
introduce you in a new light. Miss Warren doesn’t 
half know you yet, and I wish her to realize that 
you are no longer a boy, but a brave, level-headed 
man, that even when stunned by lightning could do' 
as much as I did. ” 

” Now, Richard Morton, I didn’t do half as 
much as thee did. How’s mother ?” and he spoke 
with a boy’s ingenuousness. 

“Doing well under the care of the doctor you 
brought,” I said ; “ and if you will now help me 
make this dying fire burn up quickly, .she will have 
you to thank more than any one else when well 
again.” 

“I’m going to thank you now,” Miss Warren 
exclaimed, seizing both of his hands. “ God bless 
you, Reuben ! v You don’t realize what you have 
done for us all.” 

The young fellow looked surprised. “ I only 
did what Richard Morton told me,” he protested, 
‘‘ and that wasn’t much.” 

“Well, there’s a pair of you,” she laughed. 
“ The fire put itself out, and Dapple went after the 


i 62 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


doctor.” Then, as if overwhelmed with gratitude, 
she clasped her hands and looked upward, as she 
said, in low, thrilling tones, ” Thank God, oh thank 
God ! what a tragedy we have escaped !” 

” Yes, ” I said, ” it might have been a day of fate 
indeed. Life would have been an unendurable bur- 
den if what you feared had happened. What’s more, 

I would have lost my faith in God had such a home 
and its inmates been destroyed. The thought of it 
makes me sick,” and I sank into' a chair. 

” We must not think of it,” she cried earnestly, 

” for there’s much to be done still. There, I’ve 
helped you all I can here. When the coffee’s 
ready, call me, and I’ll come for it. Get on dry 
clothes as soon as you can, Reuben, for you can be 
of great service to us up-stairs. I’m astonished at 
you, Mr. Morton, you haven’t any nerve at all — 
you who have dealt in conflagrations, murders, 
wars, pestilences, earthquakes, writing them up in 
the most harrowing, blood-curdling style ; you have 
absolutely turned white and faint because the in- 
mates of a farm-house were shocked. I won’t be- 
lieve you are an editor at all unless you call me 
within five minutes.” 

Whether because her piquai^ words formed just 
the spur I needed,^ becaus^^^had a mysterious 
power over me which made will min^ I threw 
off the depression into which I had reacted from my 
overwhelming excitement and anxiety, and soon 
had my slowly kindling fire burning furiously ,^imly \ 
conscious in the mean time that deep in my heart ) 
another and subtler flame was kindling als^ 


CHAPTER XIV. 

KINDLING A SPARK OF LIFE. 

I SOON had coffee made that was as black as 
the night without. Instead of calling Miss 
Warren, I took a tray from the dining-room, and 
carried it with several cups up-stairs. 

“ Bring it here !” called the doctor. 

I entered Mrs. Yocomb’s room, and found that 
she had quite fully revived, and that Reuben had 
supported his father thither also. He reclined on 
the lounge, and his usually ruddy face was very 
pale. Both he and his wife appeared almost help- 
less ; but the doctor had succeeded in arresting, by 
the use of ice, the distressing nausea that had fol- 
lowed consciousness. They looked at me in a be- 
wildered manner as I entered, and could not seem 
to account for my presence at once. Nor did they, 
apparently, try to do so long, for their eyes turned 
toward little Zillah with a deeply troubled and per- 
plexed expression, as if they were beginning to real- 
ize that the child was very ill, and that events of an 
extraordinary character had happened. 

“Let me taste the coffee,” said the doctor. 
“Ah! that's the kind — black and strong. See 
how it will bring them around,” and he made Mr. 
and Mrs. Yocomb each ewallow a cup of it. 

“ Miss Warren,” he called, “ give some of this 
to Miss Adah, if she is quiet enough to take it. 1 
cannot leave the child.” 


1.64 A £>AY OF FA TM. 

Miss Warren came at once. Her face was cloude^^, 
and anxious, and she looked with eager solicitude 
toward the still unconscious Zillah, whose hands 
Reuben was chafing. 

“ I think Miss Adah will soon be better,” she re= 
plied to the doctor’s inquiring glance, and she went 
back to her charge. 

” Take some yourself,” said the physician to 
me, in a low tone. ” I fear we are going to have a 
serious time with the little girl.” 

” You do not realize,” I urged, ” that Miss War- 
ren needs keeping up almost as truly as any of 
them. ” 

” You’ll have to take care of her then,” said the 
doctor hastily ; ” she seems to be doing well her- 
self, and doing well for others. Take her some 
coffee, and say that I said she must drink it.” 

I knocked at Adah’s door and called, ” Miss 
Warren, the doctor says you must drink this 
coffee.” 

” In a few moments,” she answered, and after a 
little time she came out. 

” Where’s your cup ?” she asked. ” Have you 
taken any ?” 

” Not yet, of course.” 

” Why of course ? If you want me to drink this 
you must get some at once.” 

” There may not be enough. I don’t know how 
much the doctor may need.” 

” Then get a cup, and I’ll give you half of this.” 

“Never,” I answered promptly. “ Do as the 
doctor bade you.” 


KINDLING A SPARK OF LIFE. 165 

She went swiftly to Mrs. Yocomb’s room and 
filled another cup. 

“ I pledge you my word I won’t touch a drop till 
you have taken this. You don’t realize what you 
have been through, Mr. Morton. Your hand so 
trembled that you could scarcely carry the cup ; 
you are all unnerved. Come,” she added gravely, 
“you must be in a condition to help, fori fear 
Zillah is in a critical condition.” 

“I’m not going to break down,” I said reso- 
lutely. “ Give it to Reuben. Poor fellow, he was 
very wet.” 

She looked at my clothes, and then exclaimed, 

“ Why, Mr. Morton, don’t you knowyou are wet 
through and through ?” 

“ Am I ?” and I looked down at my soaked gar- 
ments. 

“ I don’t believe you have a dry thread on you.” 

“ I’ve been too excited to think of it. Of 
course, I got wet on the roof ; but what’s a sum- 
mer shower ! Your coffee’s getting cold.” 

“ So is yours. ” 

“ You have the doctor’s orders.” 

“ I would be glad if my wishes weighed a little 
with you,” she said, appealingly. 

“ There, Miss Warren, if you put it that way I’d 
drink gall and vinegar,” and I gulped down the 
coffee. 

She vanished into Adah’s room, saying, “You 
must take my word for it that I drink mine. I shah 
sip it while waiting on my patient.” 

Having insisted on Reuben’s taking some also 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


i66 

I returned to the kitchen and made a new sup- 
ply. 

Mn and Mrs. Yocomb’s extreme prostration, 
both mental and physical, perplexed me. Their 
idolized child was still unconscious, and yet they 
could only look on in wondering and perplexed 
anxiety. I afterward learned that a partial paraly- 
sis of every faculty, especially of memory, was a 
common effect of a severe shock of electricity. It 
was now evident that Miss Warren, from some ob- 
scure cause, escaped harm from lightning. The 
words I had employed to reassure her turned out 
to be true — she had merely swooned — and thus, on 
recovery, had full possession of all her faculties. 

‘ ‘ I would be glad if my wishes weighed a little with 
you," she had said. In wonder at myself, I asked, 
" What weighs more with me? By what right is 
this maiden, whom I have met but to-day, taking 
such absolute control of my being ? Am I over- 
wrought, morbid, fanciful, deluded by an excited 
imagination into beliefs and moods that will vanish 
in the clear sunlight and clearer light of reason ? or 
has the vivid lightning revealed with absolute dis- 
tinctness the woman on whom I can lean in perfect 
trust, and yet must often sustain in her pathetic 
weakness ? (jhe world would say we are strangers ; 
but my heart and soul and every fibre of my being 
appear to recognize a kinship so close that I feel we 
never can be strangers agai^ It is true the light- 
ning fuses the hardest substances, making them one ; 
however I am beginning to think that my hitherto 
callous nature has been smitten by a diviner fire. If 


\ 


KINDLING A SPARK OF LIFE. 1^7 

SO, Heaven grant that I’m not the only one 
struck. 

“ Well, it’s a queer world. When I broke down, 
last Friday night, and sat cowering before the 
future in my editorial sanctum, I little dreamt that 
on Sunday night I should be making coffee in a 
good old Quaker’s kitchen, and, what is still more 
strange, making a divinity out of a New York 
music-teacher !’’ 

A moment later I added, “ That’s a stupid way 
of putting it. I’m not making a divinity out of 
her at all. She is one, and I’ve had the wit to 
recognize the truth. Are her gentlemen friends all 
idiots that they have not — ’’ 

“ What ! talking to yourself, Mr. Morton ? I 
fear the events of this day are turning your head.’’ 
And Miss Warren entered. 

“ Speak of an angel — you know the saying.’’ 

“ Indeed ! The only word I heard as I entered 
was ‘ idiot.’ ’’ 

“ Pardon me, you overheard the word ‘ idiots,’ 
so can gather nothing from that.’’ 

“ No, your mutterings are dark indeed I see 
no light or sense in them ; but the doctor came to 
Adah’s door and asked me for more coffee.’’ 

“ How is Miss Adah ?’’ 

“ Doing nicely. She’ll sleep soon, I think.’’ 

“ I do hope little Zillah is recovering.’’ 

•“ Yes, Reuben put a radiant face within the 
door, a few minutes since, and said Zillah was 
‘ coming to,’ as he expressed it. Adah is doing so 
well that I feel assured about the others. Now 


A DA y OP FA TF. 


i6g 

that she is becoming quiet, I think I can leave her 
and help with Zillah/’ 

“ And you’re not exhausting yourself?” 

” I’ve not yet reached the stage of muttering 
delirium. Mr. Morton, will you permit me to sug- 
gest that you go to your room and put on dry 
clothes. You are not fit to be seen. Moreover, 
there is a mark athwart your nose that gives to your 
face a sinister aspect, not becoming in one whose 
deeds of darkness this night will bear the light of 
all coming time. It might be appropriate in a 
printing-office ; but I don’t intend to have little 
Zillah frightened. Oh, I’m so glad and grateful 
that we have all escaped ! There, that will do ; 
give me the tray.” 

” Beg your pardon : I shall carry it up myself. 
What on earth would I have done without you in 
this emergency?” 

” Come, Mr. Morton, I’m not used to being dis- 
obeyed. Yes, you did look as helpless as only a 
man can look when there’s illness ; and there’s 
no telling what awful remedies you might have ad- 
ministered before the doctor came. I think I shall 
take the credit of saving all our lives, since you and 
Reuben won’t.” 

She pushed open the door of Mrs. Yocomb's 
room, and her face changed instantly. 

Little Zillah lay on the bed and was still uncon- 
scious. Mrs. Yocomb had been moved into an 
arm-chair, and every moment comprehension of the 
truth grew clearer, and her motherly solicitude was 
intensified. 


JtiNDliNG A SPARK OF LIFF. 169 

Reuben evidently was frightened, and the doc- 
tor’s brow was knitted into a frown of perplex- 
ity. 

“ We thought she was coming to,” said Reuben 
to Miss Warren, ” but she’s gone back worse than 
ever.” 

” Mr. Morton, I wish you to give to all a cup of 
that coffee and take some yourself,” said the phy- 
sician, in a quiet but authoritative voice. Mr. 
Yocomb, you must not rise ; you will be ill 
again, and I now need all the help I can get with 
this child. We must try artificial respiration, spray- 
ing the chest with cold water, and every possible 
means.” 

” Would to God that I could help thee !” cried 
Mrs. Yocomb. 

“You can help by keeping absolutely quiet. 
Mr. Morton, in this emergency you must become as 
a brother or one of the family.” 

“ I am one with them to-night,” I said earnestly ; 
“ let me help you in any way.” 

“You three must rubber with flannel and spirits, 
while I lift her arms slowly up and down to try to 
induce respiration.” 

The poor limp little body — how sacred it seemed 
to me ! 

We worked and worked till the perspiration 
poured from our faces. Every expedient was tried, 
until the physician at last desisted and stood back 
for a moment in anxious thought. 

Then, in a tone broken with anguish, Mr. Yocomb 
exclaimed, 


A Day OF FA tR. 


“ Would to God the bolt had fallen on my head, 
and not on this dear little lamb.” 

In bitter protest against it all I cried, ” The bolt 
has fallen on your heart, Mr. Yocomb. How is it 
that God has thunderbolts for lambs ?” 

” Richard Morton, thee’s unjust,” began Mrs. 
Yocomb, in a voice that she tried to render quiet 
and resigned. “Who art thou to judge God 
‘ What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt 
know — ’ Oh, my child, my child !” broke out her 
wailing cry, and motherhood triumphed. 

Reuben was sobbing over his sister with all the 
abandon of boyish grief, but Miss Warren stood be- 
fore the little form, apparently lifeless, with clasped 
hands and dilated eyes. 

“ I can’t — I won’t give her up,” she exclaimed 
passionately, and darted from the room. 

I followed wonderingly. She was already in the 
kitchen, and had found a large tub. 

“ Fill this with hot water,” she said to me. 
“ No ! let me do it ; I’ll trust no one. Yes, you 
may carry it up, but please be careful. I’ll bring 
some cold water to temper it. Doctor,” she ex- 
claimed, re-entering the room, “ we must work till 
we know there is no chance. Yes, and after we 
know it. Is not hot water good 

“ Anything is good that will restore suspended 
circulation,” he replied ; “we’ll try it. But wait 
a moment. I’ve employed a nice test, and if there’s 
life I think this little expedient will reveal it. He 
held the child’s hand, and I noted that a string had 
been tied around one of the small white fingers, and 


KINDLING A SPARK OF LIFE. 17 1 

that he intently watched the part of the finger be- 
yond the string. I comprehended the act at once, 
and recognized the truth that there would be little 
hope of life if this test failed. If there was any 
circulation at all the string would not prevent the 
blood flowing out through the artery, but it would 
prevent its return, and, therefore, if there was life 
a faint color would manifest itself in the finger. I 
bent over and held my breath in my eager scrutiny. 

“ The child’s alive !” I exclaimed. 

By a quick, impressive gesture the physician 
checked my manifestation of feeling and excitement 
as he said, 

“Yes, she’s alive, and that’s about all. We’ll 
try a plunge in the hot bath, and then friction and 
artificial respiration again.’’ 

We set to work once more with double zeal under 
the inspiration of Miss Warren’s words and manner, 
but especially because assured that life still lin- 
gered. In less than a quarter of an hour there was 
a perceptible pulse. At last she was able to swal- 
low a little stimulant, and the faint spark of life, of 
which we scarcely dared to speak lest our breath 
might extinguish it, began to kindle slowly. When 
at last she opened her eyes, Miss Warren turned 
hers heavenward with a fulness of gratitude that 
must have been sweet to the fatherly heart of God 
if the words be true, “ Like as a father pitieth his 
children.’’ 

Mrs. Yocomb threw herself on her knees by the 
bedside, sobbing, “ Thank God ! thank God !’’ 

Reuben was growing wild with joy, and the 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


17a 

father, overwhelmed with emotion, was struggling 
to rise, when the doctor said, in low, decided tones. 
Hush ! Nothing must be said or done to ex- 
cite or surprise her. Mr., and Mrs. Yocomb, as you 
love your child, control yourselves. You, Mr. Mor- 
ton; would seem strange to her, and, with Reuben, 
had better leave us now. Miss Warren will help 
me, and I think all will be well.” 

” Don’t overtax Miss Warren,” I urged, linger- 
ing anxiously at the door a moment. 

She gave me a smiling, reassuring nod, as much 
as to say that she would take care of herself. 

” God bless her !” I murmured, as I sought mv 
room. ” I believe. she has saved the child.’ 




CHAPTER XV. 


MY FATE. 

H aving lighted the lamp in my room, I 
looked around it with a delicious sense of 
proprietorship. Its quaint, homely comfort was 
just to my taste, and now appeared doubly attrac- 
tive. Chief of all, it was a portion of the home I 
had had some part in saving, and we instinctively 
love that which ministers to our self-complacency. 
An old house seems to gain a life and being of its 
own, and I almost imagined it conscious of grati- 
tude that its existence had not been blotted out. 
Mrs. Yocomb’s cordial invitation to come and stay 
when I could gave me at the time a glad sense 
that I had found a country refuge to which I could 
occasionally escape when in need of rest. I felt 
now, however, as if the old walls themselves would 
welcome me. As to the inmates of the home, I 
feared that their grateful sense of the services I was 
so fortunate as to render might make their bound- 
less sense of obligation embarrassing to me. It 
would be their disposition to repay an ordinary 
favor tenfold, and they would always believe that 
Reuben and I had saved their lives, and the old 
home which no doubt had long been in their family. 

“Well, ril never complain of fortune again,” I 
thought, “ since I’ve been permitted to do for these 
people what I have and I threw myself down on 


^74 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


the lounge, conscious of the warm, comfortable 
glow imparted by dry clothes and the strong coffee, 
still more conscious of an inner satisfaction that the 
threatening events of the night had ended just as I 
could have wished. 

“ Since it was to be, thank God I was here and 
was able to act for the best,” I murmured. ” The 
June sunshine and the lightning have thrown con- 
siderable light on my future. I said to Emily War- 
ren, ‘ What could I have done without you in this 
emergency ? ' With still greater emphasis I feel like 
asking. What would life be without you ? It seems 
absurd that one person should become essential to 
the life of another in a few brief hours. And yet, 
why absurd ? Is it not rather in accord with the 
deepest and truest philosophy of life ? Is the indis- 
soluble union of two lives to result from long and 
careful calculations of the pros and cons ? In true / 
marriage it seems to me the soul should recognize 
its mate when meeting it.” 

It thus may be seen that I was no exception to 
that large class who accept or create a philosophy 
pleasing to it, and there is usually enough truth in 
any system to prevent its being wholly unreasonable. 

I heard a step in the hall, and as I had left my 
door open so that at any sound I could spring up, 

I was so fortunate as to intercept the object of my 
thoughts. Her face was full of deep content, but 
very pale. To the eager questioning of my manner, 
she replied, 

‘‘ The doctor says Zillah is doing as well as wc 
could expect. Oh, Tm so glad !” 


MV FATE. 


175 


“ Miss Warren, you don’t know how pale you 
are. When are you going to rest ? I’ve been lying 
down, and my conscience troubled me as I thought 
of you still working.” 

I never imagined that editors had such tender 
consciences,” she said, with a low laugh, and she 
vanished into Adah’s room. 

I knew she wouldn’t stay long, and remained at the 
end of the hall, looking out of the window. The light- 
ning flashes had grown faint and distant, but they 
were almost incessant, and they revealed that the 
clouds were growing thin toward the west, while 
near the horizon a star glimmered distinctly. 

“Miss Warren,” I called, as she came out of 
Adah’s room, “ I’ve a good omen to show you. 
Do you see that star in the west ? I think the 
morning will be cloudless ?” 

“ But those flashes prove that the storm is caus- 
ing fear and loss to other and distant homes.” 

“Not at all. It is, no doubt, causing ‘ better 
grain and clearer skies,’ as Mr. Yocomb said. Such 
an experience as we have had to-night, while hav- 
ing its counterparts not infrequently, take the world 
over, is by no means common.” 

“ Oh, I hope we may have no more heavy thun- 
der-storms this summer. They are about the only 
drawback to this lovely season.” 

“You are perfectly safe so long as you remain 
here,” I laughed ; “ you know the lightning never 
strikes twice in the same place.” 

“ I hope to stay here, but for better reasons than 

that.^’ 


176 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ So do I.” 

“ I should think you would. You, certainly, are 
no longer homeless. Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb will 
adopt you in spite of yourself as soon as they re- 
alize it all. The string of the latch will always hang 
outside of the door for you, I can tell you ; and 
a nice place it will be for a city man to come.” 

“ And for a city woman too. Mrs. Yocomb had 
adopted you before all this happened, and I don’t 
believe she’ll forget that you really saved little 
Zillah’s life.” 

” The dear little thing!” she exclaimed, tears 
starting to her eyes. ” How pathetic her little 
unconscious form was 1” 

” To me,” I replied earnestly, ” it was the most 
exquisite and sacred thing I ever saw. I don’t 
wonder you felt as you did when you said, ‘ I can’t 
— I won’t give her up,’ for it seemed at the moment 
almost as if my life depended on her life, so power- 
ful was her hold on my sympathy. The doctor 
spoke truer than he thought, for it seems as if the 
lightning had fused me into this family, and my 
grief would have been almost as great as Reuben’s 
had little Zillah not revived.” 

” I feel as if it would have broken my heart,” 
and her tears fell fast. Dashing them away she 
said, ” I cry as well as feugh too easily, and I’m 
often so provoked that I could shake myself. I 
must say that I think we’re all becoming well 
acquainted for people who have met so recent- 

ly-” 

“ Qh, as for you,” I replied, ‘‘ J knew you well 


MV FATE. 


177 


in some previous state of existence, and have just 
met you again. " 

“ Mr. Morton,” she said, turning on me 
brusquely, ” I shall not be quite sure as to your 
entire sanity till you have had a long sleep. You 
have seemed a little out of your head on some 
points ever since our extended acquaintance began. 
You have appeared impressed or oppressed with the 
hallucination that this day — is it to-day or to-mor- 
row T ' 

” It’s to-day for a little while longer,” I replied, 
looking at my watch. 

” Well, then, that to-day was ‘ a day of fate,’ and 
you made me nervous on the subject — ” 

” Then I’m as sane as you are.” 

” No, I hadn’t any such nonsense in my mind 
till you suggested it, but having once entertained 
the idea it haunted me.” 

“Yes, and it haunts you still,” I said eagerly. 

” What time is it, Mr. Morton 

” It- lacks but a few moments of midnight.” 

” No,” she said laughingly, ” I don’t believe any- 
thing more will happen to-day, and as soon as the 
old clock down-stairs strikes twelve I think the light 
of reason will burn again in your disordered mind. 
Good-night. ” 

Instead of going, however, she hesitated, looked 
at me earnestly a moment, then asked, 

” You said you found me unconscious ?” 

“ Yes.” 

” How did you revive me ?” 

I carried you to the sofa under the window, 


178 


A DAY OF FA TB. 


which I Opened. I then chafed your hands, but I 
think the wind and spray restored you.” 

” I don’t remember fainting before ; and — oh, 
well, this whole experience has been so strange 
that I can’t realize it.” 

” Don’t try to. If I’m a little out of my head, 
your soul will be out of your body if you don’t 
take better care of yourself. You might as well be 
killed by lightning as over-fatigue. That doctor 
seems to think you are made of india-rubber.” 

” I’ve laughed to myself more than once at your 
injunctions to the doctor since Zillah revived. 
We’ve had such a narrow escape that I feel as if I 
ought not to laugh again for a year, but I can’t 
help it. I won’t thank you as I meant to — it might 
make you vain. Good-night,” and ^e gave my 
hand a quick, strong pressur^^and went swiftly back 
to Mrs. Yocomb’s room. 

Had my hand clasped only flesh and blood, bone 
and sinew ^(i^o, indeed^ Ql felt that I had had 
within my grasp a gratitude and friendly regard that 
was so full and real that the warm-hearted, impul- 
sive girl would not trust herself to express it in 
words.J Her manner, however, was so frank and 
unconstrained that I knew her feelings to be only 
those of gratitude and friendly regard, seeing clearly 
that she entertained no such thoughts as had come 
unbidden to ma. 

In spite of my fatigue, the habit of my life and 
the strong coffee would have banished all thought 
of sleep for hours to come, if there had been no 
other cause^but the touch of a little hand had put 


MV FATE. 


179 


more glad awakening life within me than all the 
stimulants of the world^^ 

I went down-stairs and looked through the old 
house to see that all was right, with as much solici- 
tude as if it were indeed my own home. Except- 
ing the disorder I had caused in the kitchen and 
hall, it had the midnight aspect of quiet and order 
that might have existed for a century. 

“ I would not be afraid of the ghosts that came 
back to this home,” I muttered. ” Indeed, I 
would like to see Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb’s ances- 
tors ; and, now I think of it, some one of them 
should wear a jaunty, worldly hat to account for 
Adah. By Jove ! but she was beautiful as she lay 
there, with her perfect physical life suspended in- 
stantaneously. If the lightning would only create 
a woman within the exquisite casket, the result 
would well repay what we have passed through. 
Her mother would say, as I suppose, that another 
and subtler fire from heaven were needed for such 
a task.” 

As I came out into the hall the great clock began 
to strike, in the slow, dignified manner befitting its 
age— 

” One, two, three — twelve.” 

The day of fate had passed. I knew Emily War- 
ren was laughing at me softly to herself as she and 
the physician watched with the patients in Mrs. 
Yocomb’s room. 

I was in no mood to laugh, for every moment 
the truth was growing clearer that I had met my 
fate. 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


I So 

I looked into the parlor, in which a lamp was 
burning, and conjured up the scene I had witnessed 
there. I saw a fair young face, with eyes turned 
heavenward, and heard again the words, “ My faith 
looks up to Thee.” 

Their faith had been sorely tried. The burning 
bolt from heaven seemed a strange response to that 
faith ; the crashing thunder a wild, harsh echo to 
the girl’s sweet, reverent tones. 

” Is it all chance ?” I queried, ” or all inexorable 
law ? Who or what is the author of the events of 
this night ?” As if in answer, Mrs. Yocomb’s text 
came into my mind : ” What I do thou knowest 
not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.” 

” Well,” I muttered, ” perhaps there is as much 
reason in their philosophy as in any other. Some- 
body ought to be in charge of all this complex life 
and being.” 

I went out on the piazza. The rain was still fall- 
ing, but softly and lightly. A freshening breeze 
was driving the thin, lingering clouds before it, and 
star after star looked out, as if lights were being 
kindled in the western sky. The moon was still 
hidden, but the vapor was not dense enough to 
greatly obscure her rays. In the partial light the 
valley seemed wider, the mountains higher, and 
everything more beautiful, in contrast with the black 
tempest that had so recently filled the scene. 

I sat down on the piazza to watch with those who 
were watching with the child. I made up my mind 
that I certainly should not retire until the physician 
departed ; and in my present mood I felt that my 


Jfy FATE. 


iSi 

midsummer night’s dream would be to me more in- 
teresting than that of Will Shakespeare. Hour 
after hour passed almost unnoted. The night 
became serene and beautiful. The moon, like a 
confident beauty, at last threw aside her veil of 
clouds, and smiled as if assured of welcome. Rain- 
drops gemmed every leaf ; and when the breeze 
increased, myriads of them sparkled momentarily 
through the silver light. As morning approached 
the air grew so sweet that I recognized the truth 
that the new flowers of a new day were opening, 
and that I was inhaling their virgin perfume. 

I rose and went softly to the ivy-covered gateway 
of the old garden, and the place seemed transfigured 
in the white moonlight. Even the kitchen vegeta- 
bles lost their homely, prosaic aspect. I stole to 
the lilac-bush, and peered at the home that had 
been roofless through all the wild storm. My ap- 
proach had been so quiet that the little brown 
mother sat undisturbed, with her head under her 
wing ; but the paternal robin, from an adjacent 
spray, regarded me with unfeigned surprise and 
alarm. He uttered a note of protest, and the 
mother-bird instantly raised her head and fixed on 
me her round, startled eyes. I stole away hastily, 
smiling to myself as I said, 

** Both families will survive unharmed, and both 
nests are safe.” 

I went to the spot where I had stood with Emily 
Warren at the time I had half-jestingly, half-ear- 
nestly indulged my fancy to reproduce a bit o! 
Eden-like frankness. Under the influence of the 


(82 


A DAY OF FA TE 


hour and my mood I was able to conjure up the 
maiden’s form almost as if she were a real presence. 
I knew her far better now. With her I had passed 
through an ordeal that would test severely the best 
and strongest. She had been singularly strong and 
very weak ; but the weakness had left no stain on 
her crystal truth, and her strength had been of the 
best and most womanly kind. As in the twilight, 
so in the white moonlight, she again made perfect 
harmony in the transfigured garden. 

“ There is but one woman in the world for me," 
I murmured, " as truly as there was only one for 
the first lonely man. I know not how it is with 
her, but I hope — oh, what would life now be to me 
without this hope ! — that she cannot have inspired 
this absolute conviction that she is essential to my 
being without some answering sympathy in her own 
woman’s heart. But whether this is true or not, or 
whether it ever can be true, 1 have met my fate,'' 

As I returned from the garden I saw that the 
dawn was coming, and I sat down and watched it 
brighten with the feeling that a new and happy life 
was also coming. 


THE END OF BOOK FIRST, 


A DAY OF FATE. 

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BOOK SECOND. 


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CHAPTER I. 


THE DAY AFTER. 

T he epochs of one’s life are not divided ac- 
cording to the calendar, nor are they measured 
by the lapse of time. Within a few brief hours I 
had reached a conclusion that left no shadow of 
doubt on my mind. As I sat there in the beautiful 
June dawn I turned a page in my history. The 
record of future joys and ills would have to be kept 
in double entry, for I felt with absolute conviction 
that I could entertain no project and decide no 
question without instinctively and naturally con- 
sulting the maiden who had quietly and as if by 
divine right obtained the mastery of my soul. But 
a day since I would have said that my present 
attitude was impossible, but now it seemed both 
right and inevitable The doubt, the sense of 
strangeness and remoteness that we justly associate 
with a comparative stranger, had utterly passed 
away, and in their place was a feeling of absolute 
trust and rest. I could place in her hands the best 
treasures of my life, without a shadow of hesitancy, 
so strongly had I been impressed with her truth. 

And yet it all was a beautiful mystery, over which 
I could have dreamed for hours. 

/I had not shunned society in the past, and had 
/greatly admired other ladies. T^heir voices had been 
\ sweet and low, as a woman’s tones should be, and 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


1 86 

their glances gentle and kind, but not one of them 
had possessed the power to quicken my pulse or to 
disturb the quiet slumber of my heart ; but this 
woman spoke to me as with authority from heaven. 
“ My whole being,” I murmured, ” bows down to 
her by a constraint that I could scarcely resist, and 
no queen in the despotic past ever had a more loyal 
subject than I have become. To serve her, even 
to suffer for her and to stand between her and all 
evils the world could inflict, are privileges that I 
covet supremely. My regard is not a sudden pas- 
sion, for passion is selfish and inconsiderate. My 
love is already united with honor and reverence, 
and my strongest impulse is to promote her happi- 
ness before my own. The thought of her is an 
inspiration toward a purer, better manhood than I 
have yet known. Her truth and innate nobility pro- 
duce an intense desire to become like her, so that 
she may look into my eyes and trust also.^^ 

I scarcely know how long my bright-hued dream 
would have lasted, but at length the door of Mrs. 
Yocomb’s room opened, and steps were on the 
stairs. A moment later the physician came out, 
and Miss Warren stood in the doorway. 

“ They are all sleeping quietly,” he said, in 
answer to my inquiry. “Yes; all danger in Zil- 
lah’s case is now passed, I think ; but she’s had a 
serious time of it, poor little thing !” 

” There’s no need of your walking home to- 
night,” protested Miss Warren. ‘ We can make 
you comfortable here, and Reuben will gladly drive 
you over in the morning.” 


THE DA Y AFTER. 


187 


It’s morning now,” he said, smiling, ” and I’ll 
enjoy the walk in the fresh air. I’ll call again be- 
fore very long. Good-day !” and he walked lightly 
down the path, as if all were very satisfactory to 
him. 

” What are you doing here, Mr. Morton ?” Miss 
Warren asked, assuming an expression of strong 
surprise. 

• ” Helping to watch.” 

” What a waste ! You haven’t done Zillah a 
bit of good.” 

” Didn’t you know I was here ?” 

” Yes ; but I hope you don’t think that I need 
watching ?” 

” I was within call.” 

” So you would have been if sleeping. I could 
have blown the great tin horn if it had been neces- 
sary to waken you, and you had remained undis- 
turbed by other means.” 

” Oh, well, then, if it made no difference to you, 
I’ll merely say I’m a night editor, and kept awake 
from habit.” 

” I didn’t say it made no difference to me,” she 
answered. “You ought to have known better 
than to have made that speech.” 

” Miss Warren,” I urged anxiously, ” you look 
white as a ghost in this mingling of moonlight and 
morning. When will you rest ?” 

” When the mind and heart are at rest a tired body 
counts for little. So you’re not afraid of ghosts ?” 

I looked at her intently as I replied, ‘‘No ; I 
would like to be haunted all my life.'* 


i88 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


It was not wholly the reflection of the dawn that 
tinged the pallor of her face as I spoke these 
words. 

After a moment's hesitation she apparently dis- 
missed a thought, and maintained her old frank 
manner. 

“ Oh, how beautiful, how welcome the morning 
is !” she exclaimed, coming out on the piazza. 

“ To think that this is the same world that we 

# 

saw last night — it’s almost impossible.” 

” Mr. Yocomb’s words will yet prove true,” I 
said, ” and clearer skies and better grain will be the 
result of the storm.” 

” Oh, I’m so glad. I’m so very glad, ” she murmur- 
ed. ” This morning is like a benediction ;” and its 
brightness and beauty glowed in her face. 

” I can tell you something that will please you 
greatly,” I continued. ” I have visited the little 
home in the garden that was open to last night’s 
sky. The father and mother robins are well, and 
I’m sure all the little ones are too, for the mother 
robin had her head under her wing — a thing impos- 
sible, I suppose, if anything was amiss with the chil- 
dren. ” 

“Oh, I’m so glad!” she again repeated, and 
there was a joyous, exquisite thrill in her tones. 

At that moment there came a burst of song from 
the top of the pear-tree in the garden, and we saw 
the head of the little household greeting the day. 

Almost as sweetly and musically my companion’s 
laugh trilled out, 

“ So it wasn’t the day of fate after all.” 


THE DA Y AFTER. 


89 


Impelled by an impulse that for the moment 
seemed irresistible, I took her hand as I said ear- 
nestly, 

“ Yes, Miss Warren, for me it was, whether for a 
lifetime of happiness or of disappointment.” 

At first she appeared startled, ^and gave me a 
swift, searching glance ; then a strong expression of 
pain passed over her face. She understood me 
well, for my look and manner would have been un- 
mistakable to any woman. 

She withdrew her hand as she said gently, 

“You are overwrought from watching — from all 
that’s happened ; let us both forget that such rash 
words were spoken.” 

” Do not think it,” I replied, slowly and de- 
liberately. have learned to know you better 

since we have met than I could in months or years 
amid the conventionalities of society (J.n you I 
recognize my fate as vividly and distinctly as I saw 
you in the lightning’s gleam last night. Please 
hear and understand me,” I urged, as she tried to 
check my words by a strong gesture of dissent. 
” If you had parents or guardians, I would ask them 
for the privilege of seeking your hand. Since you 
have not, I ask you. At least, give me a chance. 

can never prove worthy of you, but by years of 
devotion I can prove that I appreciate you. 

*' Oh, I’m so sorry, so very sorry you feel so,” 
she said, and there was deep distress in her tones ; 
” I was in hopes we should be life-long friends.” 

” We shall be,” I replied quietly. She looked at 
hesitatingly a moment, then said impulsively, 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


190 

“ Mr. Morton, you are too honorable a man to 
seek that which belongs to another. There,” she 
added, flushing deeply, “I’ve told you what IVe 
acknowledged to no one — scarcely to myself.” 

I know that the light of hope faded out of my 
face utterly, for I felt ill and faint. If in truth she 
belonged to another, her absolute truth would make 
her so loyal to him that further hope would be not 
only vain but an insult, which she would be the first 
to resent. 

” I understand you too well,” I began despond- 
ently, ” to say another word. Miss Warren. I — I 
wish-fit seems rather odd I should have felt so tow- 
ard you when it was no use. It was as inevitable as 
our meeting. The world and all that’s in it is an 
awful muddle to m^ But God bless you, and if 
there’s any good God, you will be blessed.” I 
shivered as I spoke, and was about to leave the 
piazza hastily, when her eager and entreating tones 
detained me. 

” Mr. Morton, you said that in spite of all we 
should be friends ; let me claim my privilege at 
once. I’m sure I’m right in believing that you’re 
overwrought and morbid, from the strange experi- 
ences you have just passed through. Do not add 
to your exhaustion by starting off on another aim- 
less walk to-day ; though you may think it 'might 
lead you to a better fate, it cannot bring you to 
those who care so deeply for you. We’ll be merry, 
true-hearted friends after we’ve had time to rest 
and think it all over.” 

“True-hearted, anyway,” I said emphatically. 


THE DA Y AFTER. 


191 

What’s more, I’ll be sane when we meet again — » 
entirely matter of fact, indeed, since I already fore- 
see that I shall be troubled by no more days of fate. 
Good-by now ; go and sleep the sleep of the just ; 
ril rest quietly here and I held out my hand. 

She took it in both of hers, and said gently, 
“ Mr. Morton, I believe you saved my — our lives 
last night.” 

“ I had some hand in it — yes, that should be hap- 
piness enough. I’ll make it answer ; but never 
speak of it again.” 

“ When I cease to think of it I shall cease to 
think at all,” she said, in strong emphasis ; and with 
a lingering, wistful glance sh^passed slowly in and 
up the winding stairway. ^ 

^ watched her as I would a ship that had left me 
on a desolate rock. 

“ She is one that could not change if she would,” 
I thought. “ It’s all over. No matter ; possibly 
I saved her life.” 

I sat down again in a rustic chair on the piazza, too 
miserable and disheartened to do more than endure 
the pain of my disappointment. Indeed there was 
nothing else to do, for seemingly I had set’ my heart 
on the impossible. Her words and manner had made 
but one impression — that she had given her love 
and faith to an earlier and more fortunate suitor. 

“ It would be strange if it were otherwise,” I 
muttered. I was the ‘ idiot,” in thinking that het 
gentlemen triends were blind ; but I protest against 
a world in which men are left to blunder so fatally.^ 
The other day I felt broken down physically ; I now 


192 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


know that I’m broken and disabled in all respects. 
-The zest and color have wholly gone out of life. 
If I ever go back to my work I shall find my coun- 
terpart in the most jaded and dispirited stage-horse 
in the city. Miss Warren will have no more occa- 
sion to criticise light, smart paragraphs. Indeed, 
I imagine that I shaH soon be restricted to the 
obituary notices, and I now feel like writing my 
own. Confound these birds ! What makes them 
sing so ? Nature’s a heartless jade anyway'. Last 
night she would have burned us up with lightning, 
and this morning there would have been not a whit 
less of song and sunshine. Oh, well, it’s far better 
that my hopes are in ashes than that this house 
should be. I, and all there is of me, is a small price 
to pay for this home and its inmates ; and if I saved 
her little finger from being scorched, I should be 
well content. '^But why the devil did I feel so tow- 
ard her when it was of no use"} That fact irritates 
me. Cfs my whole nature a lie, and are its deepest 
intuitions and most sacred impulses false guides that 
lead one out into the desert to perish ? In the crisis 
of my life, when I had been made to see that past 
tendencies were wrong, and I was ready for any 
change for the better, my random, aimless steps 
led to this woman, and, as I said to her, the result 
was inevitably All nature seemed in league to 
give emphasis to the verdict of my own heart, but 
the moment I reached the conviction that she was 
created for me and I for her, I am informed that 
she was created for another. I must therefore be 
one of th§ Qdd ones, for whorn there is no mate, 


THE Da Y after. 


193 


Curse it all ! I rather feel as if another man were 
going to marry my wife, and I must admit that I 
have a consuming curiosity to see him. 

“ But this can’t be. Her heart must have recog- 
nized the true kinship in this other man — blast him ! 
no, bless him, if she marries him— ffor she’s the last 
one in the world to enter into merely legal relations, 
unsanctioned by the best and purest instincts of her 
womanly nature. 

“ It’s all the devil’s own muddle.” 

And no better conclusion did I reach that dismal 
morning — the most dismal I can remember, although 
the hour abounded in beauty and the glad, exuber- 
ant life that follows a summer rain. I once heard 
a preacher say that hell could be in heaven and 
heaven in hell. I thought him a trifle irreverent 
at the time, but now half believed him right. 

My waking train of thought ended in a stupor in 
which I do not think I lost for a moment the dull 
consciousness of pain. I was aroused by a step 
upon the gravel-path, and, starting up, saw the 
woman who served Mrs. Yocomb in the domestic 
labors of the farmhouse. She stopped and stared 
at me a moment, and then was about to continu* 
around the house to the kitchen entrance. 

“ Wait a moment, my good woman,” I said ; 
‘ and you’ll now have a chance to prove yourself a 
good woman, and a very helpful and considerate 
one, too. The house was struck by lightning last 
night.” 

“ Lord a massy !” she ejaculated, and she struck 
an attitude with her hands on her hips, and stared 


194 A DAY OF FATE. 

at me again, with her small eyes and capacious 
mouth opened to their utmost extent. 

" Yes,” I continued, “ and all were hurt except 
Reuben. The doctor has been here, and all are 
now better and sleeping, so please keep the house 
quiet, and let us sleep till the doctor comes again. 
Then have a good fire, so that you can get ready at 
once whatever he orders for the patients.” 

“ Lord a massy !” she again remarked very em- 
phatically, and scuttled off to her kitchen domains 
in great excitement. 

I now felt that my watch had ended, and that I 
could give the old farmhouse into the hands of one 
accustomed to its care. Therefore I wearily climbed 
the stairs to my room, and threw myself, dressed, 
on the lounge. 

After a moment or two Miss Warren’s door 
opened, and her light step passed down to the 
kitchen. She, too, had been on the watch for the 
coming of the domestic, and, if aware that I had 
seen the woman, did not regard me as competent 
to enlighten her as to her duties for the day. The 
kitchen divinity began at once, 

“ Lord a massy. Miss Em’ly, what a time yer’s 
all had ! The strange man told me. There hain’t 
no danger now, is there ?” 

In response to some remark from Miss Warren 
she continued, in shrill volubility, 

“Yes, he told me yer’s all struck but Reub’n. 
I found him a-sittin’ on the stoop, and a-lookin’ all 
struck of a heap himself. Is that the way light- 
ning ’fects folks ? He looked white as a ghost, and 


THE DA Y AFTER. 


195 


as ef he didn t keer ef he was one afore night. 
Twas amazin’—” and here Miss Warren evidently 
silenced her. 

I heard the murmur of her voice as she gave a 
tew brief directions, and then her steps returned 
swiftly to her room. 

“ She can be depended upon,” I sighed, “ to do 
all she thinks right. She must have been wearied 
beyond mortal endurance, and worried by my rash 
and unlooked-for words, and yet she keeps up till 
all need is past. Every little act shows that I might 
as well try to win an angel of heaven as sue against 
her conscience, she is so absolutely true. You’re 
right, old woman ; I was ‘ struck,’ and I wish it had 
been by lightning only.” 

Just when I exchanged waking thoughts for hate- 
ful dreams I do not remember. At last I started 
to my feet, exclaiming, 

“ It’s all wrong ; he shall not marry my wife !” 
and then I sat down on the lounge and tried to 
extricate myself from the shadows of sleep, and 
thus become able to recognize the facts of the real 
world that I must now face. Slowly the events of 
the previous day and night came back, and with 
them a sense of immeasurable loss. The sun was 
low in the west, thus proving that my unrefreshing 
stupor had lasted many hours. The clatter of 
knives and forks indicated preparations for supper 
in the dining-room below. I dreaded meeting the 
family and all words of thanks, as one would the 
touching of a diseased nerve. More than all, I 
dreaded meeting Miss Warren again, feeling that 


96 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


we both would be under a wretched constraint. My 
evil mood undoubtedly had physical causes, for my 
mouth was parched, my head throbbed and ached, 
and I felt so ill in body and mind, so morbid and 
depressed, that I was ready to escape to New York 
without seeing a soul, were the thing possible. 

The door opened softly, and I saw Reuben’s 
ruddy, happy face. 

“ Oh, Tm so glad thee’s awake,” he said. 
“ They’re all doing well. Adah’s got well so fast 
that she actually looks better than Emily Warren. 
Even Zillah’s quite bright this evening, only she’s 
so weak she can’t sit up much, but the doctor says 
it’ll wear away. Thee doesn’t look very extra, and 
no wonder, thee did so much. Father, mother, and 
Emily Warren have been talking about thee for the 
last two hours, and Adah can’t ask questions 
enough about thee, and how thee found her. She 
says the last thing she saw was thee on the lawn, 
and thee was the first thing she saw when she came 
to, and now she says she can’t help seeing thee all 
the time. Emily Warren said we must let thee 
sleep as long as thee would, for that, she said, was 
what thee needed most of all.” 

“She’s mistaken,” I muttered, starting up. 
“Reuben,” I continued aloud, “you’re a good, 
brave fellow. I’ll come down to supper as soon as 
I can fairly wake up. I feel as stupid as ^n owl at 
middav but I’m exceedingly glad that all are 
doing well.” 

When he left me I thought, “ Well, I will keep 
up for two or three hours, and then can excuse 


THE DA Y AFTER. 


T97 


myself. To-morrow I can return to New York, 
since clearly this will be no place for me. Miss 
Warren thinks that a little sleep will cure me, and 
that I will be sane and sensible now that I am 
awake. She will find me matter-of-fact indeed, for 
I feel like a bottle of champagne that has stood un- 
corked for a month ; but may the devil fly away 
with me if I play the forlorn, lackadaisical lover, and 
show my wounds.” 

I bathed my face again and again, and made as 
careful a toilette as circumstances permitted. 

In their kind-hearted simplicity they had evi- 
dently planned a sort of family ovation, for as I 
came out on the piazza they were all there except 
Miss Warren, who sat at her piano playing softly ; 
but as Mr. Yocomb rose to greet me she turned 
toward us, and through the open window could see 
us and hear all that passed. The old gentleman 
still bore marks of his shock and the illness that 
followed, but there was nothing weak or limp in 
his manner as he grasped my hand and began 
warmly, 

“ Richard Morton, last night I said thee was wel- 
come ; I now say this home is as truly thine as 
mine. Thee saved mother and the children from — ” 
and here his voice was choked by emotion. 

Mrs. Yocomb seized my other hand, and I sa\^ 
that she was “moved” now if ever, for her face 
was eloquent with kindly, grateful feeling. 

“ Please don’t,” I said, so sharply as to indicate 
irritation, for I felt that I could not endure another 
syllable. Then, slapping Reuben brusquely on the 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


198 

shoulder, I added, “ Reuben was quite as helpful as I : 
thank him. Any tramp from New York would try 
to do as much as I did, and might have done bet- 
ter. Ah, here is Zillah !” And I saw that the lit- 
tle girl was propped up on pillows just within the 
parlor window, where she could enjoy the cool 
evening air without too great exposure. “ If she 11 
give me another kiss we’ll call it all square and say 
no more about it,” and I leaned over the window- 
sill. 

The child put her arms around my neck and clung 
to me for a moment. There could have been no 
better antidote for my mood of irritable protest 
against my fate than the child’s warm and innocent 
embrace, and for a moment it was balm indeed. 

” There,” I cried, kissing her twice, ” now I’m 
overpaid.” Raising my eyes, I met those of 
Miss Warren as she sat by her piano. 

Yes,” she said, with a smile, ” after that I 
should think you would be more than content.” 

” I certainly ought to-be,” I replied, looking at 
her steadily. 

” Zillah’s very grateful,” Miss Warren continued. 
” She knows that you watched with her till morn- 
ing.” 

” So did other night-owls, Zillah, and they were 
quite as useful as I was.” 

She reached up her hand and pulled me down. 
” Mother said,” she began. 

“You needn’t tell a stranger what mother said,” 
and I put my finger on her lips. 

” Thee’s no more of a stranger than Emily War- 


THE DAY AETER, 


199 


ren,” said the little girl reproachfully. ‘ I can’t 
think of thee without thinking of her.” 

I raised my eyes in a quick flash toward the young 
lady, but she had turned to the piano, and her right 
hand was evoking a few low chords. 

“ Miss Warren can tell you,” I said, laughing, 

“ that when people have been struck by lightning 
they often don’t think straight for a long time to 
come.’’ 

/ “ Crooked thinking sometimes happens withouj^ 
so vivid a cause,” Miss Warren responded, without 
looking around. 

“ Zillali s right in thinking that thee can never 
be a stranger in this home,” said Mrs. Yocomb 
warmly. 

“ Mrs. Yocomb, please don’t think me insensible 
to the feelings which are so apparent. Should I 
live centuries, the belief that I had served you and 
yours after your kindness would still be my pleas- 
antest thought. But you overrate what I have 
done : it was such obvious duty that any one would 
have done the same, or else his ears should have 
been cropped. It gives me a miserably mean 
feeling to have you thank me so for it. Please 
don’t any more.” 

“ We forget,” said Miss Warren, advancing to 
the window, “ that Mr. Morton is versed in trage- 
dies, and has daily published more dreadful affairs.” 

“Yes, and has written ‘ paragraphs ’ about them 
that no doubt seemed quite as lurid as the events 
themselves, suggesting that I gloated over disas- 
ters as so much material.” 


200 


A BAY OF FA TE. 


“ Mr. Morton, isn’t it nearly as bad to tell fibs 
about one’s self as about other people ?” 

“ My depravity will be a continuous revelation to 
you, Miss Warren,” I replied. 

With a low laugh she answered, “ I see you make 
no secret of it,” and she went back to her piano. 

I had bowed cordially to Adah as I joined the 
family group, and had been conscious all the time 
of her rather peculiar and fixed scrutiny, which I 
imagined suggested a strong curiosity more than 
anything else. 

“ Well, Richard Morton,” said Mr. Yocomb, as 
if the words were irrepressible, “ thee knows a lit- 
tle of how we feel toward thee, if thee won’t let us 
say as much as we would like. I love this old 
home in which I was born and have lived until this 
day. I could never build another home like it if 
every leaf on the farm were a bank-note. But I 
love the people who live here far more. Richard 
Morton, I know how it would all have ended, and 
thee knows. The house was on fire, and all within 
it were helpless and unconscious. I’ve seen it all 
to-day, and Reuben has told us. May the Lord 
bless thee for what thou hast done for me and 
mine ! I’m not going to burden thee with our grat- 
itude, but truth is truth, and we must speak out 
once for all, to be satisfied. Thee knows, too, that 
when a Friend has anything on his mind it’s got to 
come; hasn’t it, mother? Richard Morton, thee 
1 as saved us all from a horrible death.” 

“ Yes, Mr. Morton,” said Miss Warren, coining 
again to the window and laughing at my crimson 


THE DA Y after. 


2(bi 


face and embarrassment, “ you Mitsf face that 
truth — there’s no escaping it. Forgive me, Mr. 
Yocomb, for laughing over so serious a subject, but 
Reuben and Mr. Morton amuse me greatly. Mr. 
Morton already says that any tramp from New York 
would have done the same. By easy transition he 
will soon begin to insist that it was some other 
tramp. I now understand evolution.” 

“ Emily Warren, thee needn’t laugh at Richard 
Morton,” said Reubjn a little indignantly; “ thee 
owes more to him than to any other man living.” 

She did not turn to the piano so quickly now 
but that I saw her face flush at the unlooked-for 
speech. 

“ That you are mistaken, Reuben, no one knows 
better than Miss Warren herself,” I replied irritably. 

She turned quickly and said, in alow tone, “You 
are right, Mr. Morton. Friends do not keep a debit 
and credit account with each other. I shall not 
forget, however, that Reuben is right also, even 
though I may seem to sometimes,” and she left 
the room. 

I was by the open window, and I do not think 
any one heard her words except Zillah, and she did 
not understand them.. 

I stood looking after her, forgetful of all else, 
when a hand laid upon my arm caused me to look 
around, and I met Adah’s gaze, and it was as fixed 
and intent as that of a child. 

“ She doesn’t owe thee any more than I do, ’’she 
said gravely. “ I wish I could do something for 
thee.” 


A DAY OF FA TF. 


202 

“Why do you say ‘thee’ to me now? — you 
always said ‘ you ’ before,” I asked. 

“ I don’t know. It seems as if I couldn’t say 
you ’ to thee any more,” and a delicate color stole 
Into her face. 

“ We all feel as if thee were one of us' now,” ex- 
plained Mrs. Yocomb gently, “ and I trust that life 
will henceforth seem to Adah a more sacred thing, 
and worthy of more sacred uses.” And she passed 
into the house to prepare for supper. 

Mr. Yocomb followed her, and Reuben went, 
down to the barn. 

“ If you live to grow like your mother. Miss 
Adah, you will be the most beautiful woman in the 
world,” I said frankly, for I felt as if I could speak 
to her almost as I would to Zillah. 

Her eyes drooped and her color deepened as she 
shook her head and murmured, 

“ I’d rather be Emily Warren than any other 
yoman in the world.” 

Her words and manner so puzzled me that I 
thought she had not fully recovered from the 
effects of the shock, and I replied, in an off-hand 
way, 

“ After a few weeks of teaching stupid children 
to turn noise into music you would gladly be your- 
self again.” 

She paid no heed to this remark, but, with the 
same intent, exploring look, asked, 

“ Thee was the first one I saw when I came to, 
last night ?” 

“Yes, and you were much afraid of me.” 


THE DAY AFTER. 


203 


“ I was foolish — I fear mother’s right, and I’ve 
always been foojish.” 

“Your manner last night was most natural. I 
was a stranger, and a hard-looking customer, too, 
when I entered your room.” 

“ I hope I didn’t look very — very bad.” 

“ You looked so like a beautiful piece of marble 
that I feared you were dead.” 

“ Thee wouldn’t have cared much.” 

“ Indeed I would. If you knew how anxious I 
was about Zillah — ” 

“ Ugh !” she interrupted, with an expression of 
strong disgust, “ I might have been a horrid, black- 
ened thing if it hadn’t been for thee.” 

“ Oh, hush 1” I cried ; “ I merely threw a couple 
of pails of water on the roof. Please say no more 
about it.” 

She passed her hand over her brow, and said 
hesitatingly, 

“ I’m so puzzled — I feel so strangely. It seems 
an age since yesterday.” 

“ You’ve had a very severe shock. Miss Adah.” 

“Yes, that may be it ; but it’s so strange that 
I was afraid of thee.” 

“ Why, Miss Adah, I was wet as a drowned rat, 
and had a black mark across my nose. I would 
have made an ideal burglar.” 

“That oughtn’t to have made any difference; 
thee was trying to save my life.” 

“ But you didn’t know it.” 

“ I don’t believe I know anything rightly. I — I 
feel so strange — just as if I had waked up and hadn’t 


204 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


got anything clear. But I know this much, in spite 
of what Reuben said,” she added impulsively; 
“ Emily Warren doesn’t owe thee any more than I 
do.” And she turned like a flash and was gone. 

“ Poor child,” I muttered, “ she hasn’t recovered 
so fully as the others.” 

I had been holding one of Zillah’s hands during 
the interview, and she now pulled me down and 
whispered, 

” What’s the matter with thee, Richard Mor- 
ton ?” 

” Heaven grant you may never know, little one. 
Good-by.” I had scarcely left the piazza, how- 
ever, before Mrs. Yocomb called, 

” Richard Morton, thee mus^" be famished. 
Come to supper” 


CHAPTER TI. 

“it was inevitable/* 

I OUGHT to have had a ravenous appetite, but 
I had none at all. I ought to have been glad 
and thankful from the depths of my heart, but I 
was so depressed that everything I said was forced 
and unnatural. My head felt as if it were burst- 
ing, and I was enraged with myself, and the 
wretched result of my bright dream. Indeed I 
found myself inclined to a spirit of recklessness and 
irritation that was well nigh irresistible. 

Miss Warren seemed as wholly free from any 
morbid, unnatural tendencies as Mr. Yocomb him- 
self, and she did her utmost to make the hour as 
genial as it should have been. At first I imagined 
that she was trying to satisfy herself that I had re- 
covered my senses, and that my unexpected words, 
spoken in the morning, were the result of a mood 
that was as transient as it was abnormal. I think 
I puzzled her ; I certainly did not understand my- 
self any better than did poor Adah, whose mind ap- 
peared to be in solution from the effects of the 
lightning, and I felt that I must be appearing worse 
than idiotic. 

Miss Warren, resolutely bent on banishing every 
unnatural constraint, asked Mr. Yocomb, 

“How is my genuine friend, Old Plod? Did 
the lightning wake him up ?” 


2o6 


A DAY OF FATE. 


“No, he plods as heavily as ever this morning. 
Thee only can wake him up.’’ 

“ You’ve no idea what a compliment that is,” 
she said, with a low laugh. “ Old Plod inspires me 
with a sense of confidence and stability that is very 
reassuring in a world full of lightning flashes.” 

“Yes,” I said, “ he is safe as a horse-block, and 
quite as exhilarating. Give me Dapple.” 

She looked at me quickly and keenly, and colored 
slightly. She evidently had some association in her 
mind with the old plough-horse that I did not un- 
derstand. 

“ Exhilaration scarcely answers as a steady diet, 
Mr. Morton.” 

“ Little chance of its lasting long,” I replied, 
“ even in a world overcharged with electricity.” 

“ I prefer calm, steady sunshine to these wild 
alternations.” 

“I doubt it; ‘calm, steady sunshine’ would 
make the world as dry and monotonous as a 
desert.” 

“ That’s true, Richard Morton,” said Mr.Yocomb. 
“ I like peace and quiet more than most men, but 
even if we had all burned up last night, this part of 
the world would have been wonderfully the better 
for the storm. I reckon it was worth a million or 
more dollars to the county.” 

“That’s the right way to look at it, Mr. 
Yocomb,” I said carelessly. “The greatest good 
to the greatest number. Individuals are of no ac- 
count.” 

“ Your philosophy mgy be true, but I don’t like 


IT WAS INEVITABLET 


207 


if,” Miss Warren protested. “A woman doesn’t 
generalize.” 

” Thy philosophy is only half true, Richard Mor- 
ton. God cares for each one of his children, and 
every one in my house counts for much to me.” 

” There’s no getting ahead of thee, mother. If 
we want to talk heresy, Richard Morton, we must 
go off by ourselves.” 

“ I think God showed his love for us in a queer 
way last night,” said Adah abruptly. 

Both her father and mother looked pained at this 
speech, and Mrs. Yocomb said gravely, 

“ Thee’ll see things in the true light some day, I 
hope. The lightning bolt may have been a mes- 
sage from heaven to thee.” 

“ It seems to me that Zillah got more of the mes- 
sage than I did, and she didn’t need any,” said the 
matter-of-fact Adah. “ At any rate I hope Richard 
Morton may be here if I ever get another mes- 
sage.” 

“ I shall surely be struck next time,” I laughed, 
a trifle bitterly ; “ for according to Mrs. Yocomb’s 
view I need a message more than any of you.” 

It was evident that neither Adah nor I was in 
a frame of mind that Mrs. Yocomb could com- 
mend. , 

0 I 

“ As you suggested, Mr. Morton, if some other 
tramp from New York had been present, what a 
thrilling narrative you could write for your paper,” 
Miss Warren began. Seemingly she had had enough 
of clouds the previous evening, and was bent on 
clear skies to-night. 


2o8 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


She found me incorrigible, however, for I said 
briefly, 

“ Oh, no, it would only make an item among the 
crimes and casualties/' 

Undaunted, she replied, “ And such might have 
been its appropriate place had not the doctor ar- 
rived so promptly. The casualty had already oc- 
curred, and I’m quite sure you would have finished 
us all with original remedies if left to yourself.” 

“ I agree with you, Miss Warren ; blunders are 
worse than crimes, and I’ve a genius for them.” 

“ Well, I’m not a genius in any sense of the 
word. Miss Adah and I look at things as they are. 
One would think, Mr. Morton, accepting your view 
of yourself, that you could supply your paper with 
all the crimes and casualties required, as the result of 
the genius you claim.” 

“ Stupid blunders would make stupid read- 
ing.” 

“ Oh, that column in your paper is very interest- 
ing, then ?” 

Why shouldn’t it be ? I’ve never had the bad 
taste to publish in it anything about myself.” 

“ I fail to find any logic in that remark. Have 
you a conscience, Mr. Morton ?” 

“ The idea of an editor’s ha\^ng a conscience ! 
I doubt whether you have ever seen New York, 
Miss Warren, you are so unsophisticated.” 

“ Emily, thee shouldn’t be afraid of lightning 
when thee and Richard Morton are so ready to 
flash back and forth at one another.” 

“ My words are only heat lightning, very harm- 


“ 77 ’ IVAS inevitable:' 

less, and Mr. Morton’s partake of the aurora in 
character — they are cool and distant.” 

I hope they are not so mysterious,” I replied. 

” Their cause is, quite.” 

” I think I understand the cause,” said Mrs. 
Yocomb as we rose from the table ; and she came 
and took my hand. ” Richard Morton, thee has 
fever ; thy hands are hot and thy temples are throb- 
bing.” 

I saw that Miss Warren was looking at me with 
an expression that was full of kind, regretful inter- 
est ; but with the perversity of a child that should 
have been shaken, I replied recklessly, 

” I’ve taken cold, I fear. 1 sat on the piazza 
like an owl last night, and I learned that an owl 
would have been equally useful there. I fear I’m 
going to be ill, Mrs. Yocomb, and I think I had 
better make a precipitate retreat to my den in New 
York.” 

“Who’ll take care of thee in thy den?” she 
asked, with a smile that would have disarmed 
cynicism itself. 

“ Oh, they can spare a devil from the office occa- 
sionally,” I said carelessly ; but I felt that my re- 
mark was brutal. In answer to her look of pained 
surprise I added, “ Pardon me that I used the vile 
slang of the shop ; I meant one of the boys em- 
ployed in the printing-rooms. Mrs. Yocomb, I 
have now satisfied you that I’m too much of a bear 
to deserve any gentler nurse. I truly think I had 
better return to town at once. I’ve never been 
very ill, and have no idea how to behave. It ’3 


2 lO 


/i DAY OF FA TE, 


already clear that I wouldn’t prove a meek and in^ 
teresting patient, and 1 don’t want to lose your 
good opinion.” 

Richard Morton, if thee should leave us now I 
should feel hurt beyond measure. Thee’s not thy- 
self or thee wouldn’t think of it.” 

“ Richard Morton, thee cannot go,” said Mr. 
Yocomb in his hearty way. “ If thee knew mother 
as I do, thee’d give right in. I don’t often put my 
foot down, but when I do, it’s like old South 
Mountain there. Ah, here comes the doctor. 
Doctor Bates, if thee doesn’t prescribe sever:.! 
weeks of quiet life in this old farmhouse for Friend 
Morton, I’ll start right off to find a doctor who 
will.” 

“ Please stay, and I’ll gather wild strawberries 
for thee,” said Adah, in a low tone. She had stolen 
close to my side, and still had the wistful, intent 
look of a child. 

“ You might do worse,” Doctor Bates remarked. 

“ You’ll never make him believe that,” laughed 
Miss Warren, who evidently believed in tonic treat- 
ment and counter-irritants. ” He would much 
prefer sultry New York and an imp from the print- 
ing-rooms.” 

” Thee may drive Dapple all thee wishes if 
thee’ll only stay,” said Reuben, his round, boyish 
face shadowed with unwonted anxiety. 

We were standing in the hall-way, and Zillah 
heard our talk, for her little figure came tottering 
out of the parlor in her trailing wrapper, and her 
eyes were full of tears. 


“/r IVAS INEVlTABLEr 


21 I 


Richard Morton, if thee doesn’t stay I’ll cry 
myself sick.” 

I caught her up in my arms and carried her back 
to the sofa, and I whispered in her ear, 

” I’ll stay, Zillah ; I’ll do anything for you.” 

The child clapped her hands gleefully as she ex- 
claimed, 

” Now I’ve got thee. He’s promised me to 
stay, mother.” 

“Yes,” said the physician, after feeling my pulse, 
“ you certainly must, and you ought to be in bed 
this moment. Your pulse indicates a very high 
fever. What’s more, you seem badly run down. I 
shall put you under active treatment at once ; that 
is, if you’ll trust me.” 

“ Go ahead, doctor,” I said, “ and get me through 
one way or the other before very long. Because 
these friends are so good and kind is no reason why 
I should become a burden to them,” and I sank 
down on the sofa in the hall. 

“ Thee’ll do us a great wrong if thee ever thinks 
that, Richard Morton,” said Mrs. Yocomb earnest- 
ly. “ Adah, thee see that his room is ready. I’m 
going to take thee in hand myself and she bustled 
off to the kitchen. 

“ You couldn’t be in better hands, Mr. Morton, 
•said the physician ; “ and Mrs. Yocomb can do 
more for you than I can. I’ll try and help a little, 
however, and will prescribe for you after I’ve seen 
Zillah;” and he and Mr. Yocomb went into the 
parlor, while Reuben, with a triumphant chuckle, 
started for the barn. 


212 


A DA Y OF FA TE. 


Now that I was alone for a moment, Miss War- 
ren, who had been standing in the doorway, and a 
little aloof, came to me, and her face was full of 
trouble as she said hurriedly, in a low tone, 

I fear I’m to blame for this. You’ll never 
know how sorry I am. I do owe you so much ! 
Please get well quickly or I’ll — ” and she hesitated. 

•‘You are the only one who did not ask me to 
stay,” I said reproachfully. 

“ I know it ; I know, too, that I’d be ill in 
your place if I could.” 

“ How could I help loving you I” I said impetu - 
ously. “There, forgive me,” I added hastily as I 
saw her look of pain and almost fright. “ Remem- 
ber I’m ill, delirious it may be ; but whatever hap- 
pens, also remember that I said I wouldn’t change 
anything. Were it all to do over again I’d do the 
same. It was inevitable : I’m sane enough to 
know that. You are not in the least to blame.” 

She hung on my last words as if I were giving 
her absolution from a mortal sin. 

“ It’s all a mistake. Oh, if you but knew how I 
regret — ’’ 

Steps were approaching. I shook my head, with 
a dreary glimmer of a smile. 

“ Good-by,” I said in a whisper, and wearily 
closed my eyes. 

Everything soon became very confused. I re- 
membered Mr. Yocomb’s helping me to my room. 

I saw Adah’s intent, wistful look as I tried to thank 
her. Mrs. Yocomb’s kind, motherly face changed 
into the features of my own mother, and then came 
a long blank. 


CHAPTER III. 


RETURNING CONSCIOUSNESS. 


I SEEMED to waken as if from a long, troubled 
sleep. At first I was merely conscious that I 
was awake, and I wondered how long I had slept. 
Then I was glad I was awake, and that my confused 
and hateful dreams, of which no distinct memory 
remained, had vanished. The only thing I could 
recall concerning them was an indefinite and oppres- 
sive sense of loss of some kind, at which I had 
vaguely and impotently protested. 

I knew I was awake, and yet I felt too languid to 
open my eyes. I was little more than barely con- 
scious of existence, and I rather enjoyed this nega- 
tive Condition of complete inertia. The thought 
floated through my mind that I was like anew-born 
child, that knows nothing, fears nothing, thinks 
nothing, but simply breathes, and I felt so tired 
and gone” that I coveted an age of mere respira- 
tion. 

But thought slowly kindled in a weak, fitful fash- 
ion. I first became slightly curious about myself. 
Why had I slept so profoundly ? Why was I so 
nerveless and stupid after such a sleep ? 

Instead of answering these questions, I weakly 
wandered off into another train of thought. ‘‘ My 
mind seems a perfect blank,” I said to myself. “ I 
don’t remember anything ; I don’t know where I 


214 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


am, and don’t much care ; nor do I know what my 
experience will be when I fully rouse myself. This 
is like beginning a new existence. What shall be 
the first entry on the blank page of my wakening 
mind ? Perhaps I had better rouse up and see 
whether I am truly alive.” 

And yet I did not rise, but just lay still, heavy 
with a strange, painless inertia, over which I puzzled 
in a vague, weak way. 

At last I was sure I heard a child crying. Then 
there was a voice, that I thought I had heard be- 
fore, trying to hush and reassure the child, and I 
began to think who they were, and yet I did not 
seem to care enough to open my eyes to see. 

I next heard something like a low sob near me, 
and it caused a faint thrill among my sluggish 
nerves. Surely I had heard that sound before, and 
curiosity so far asserted itself that I opened my 
eyes and looked wonderingly around. 

The room was unfamiliar, and yet I was certain 
I had seen it on some previous occasion. Seated at 
a window, however, was a lady who soon absorbed 
my whole weak and wavering attention. My first 
thought was, How very pretty she is !” Then, 

What is she looking at so steadfastly from the 
I window ?” After a moment I mentally laughed at 
i my stupidity. She’s looking at the sunset. 

I What else should she be looking at ? Can I have 
, slept all day ?” 

■ I saw her bosom heave with another convul- 
sive sob, and that tears fast followed each other 
down her cheeks. I seemed to have the power of 


RETURNING CONSCIOUSNESS. 215 

noting everything distinctly, but I couldn’t under- 
stand or account for what I saw. Who was that 
sweet-faced girl ? Beyond a doubt I had seen her 
before, but where ? Why was she crying ? Why 
was she in my room ? 

Then I thought, It must be all imaginary ; I 
doubt whether I am awake yet. If she were only 
smiling instead of crying, I would like to dream on 
forever. How strangely familiar her face is ! I 
must have seen it daily for years, and yet I can’t 
recognize it.” 

The loud whinny of a horse seemed to give my 
paralyzed memory an impetus and suggestion, by 
means of which I began to reconstruct the past. 

‘‘That’s Old Plod!” I exclaimed mentally. 
“ And — and — why, that’s Miss Warren sitting by 
the window. I remember now. We were in the 
barn together, and I was jealous of the old horse — 
how absurd 1 Then we were in the garden, and she 
was laughing at me. How like a dream it all is 1 
It seemed as if she were always laughing, and that 
the birds might well stop singing to listen. Now 
she is crying here in my room. I half believe it’s 
an apparition, and that if I speak it will vanish. 
Perhaps it is a warning that she’s in trouble some- 
where, and that I ought to go to her help. How 
lovely she looks, with her hands lying in her lap, for- 
getful of the work they hold, and her tearful eyes 
fixed on the glowing west ! Her face is very pale 
in contrast. Surely she’s only a shadow, and the 
real maiden is in need of my aid and I made an 
effort to rise. 


2t6 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


It seemed exceedingly strange that I could scarce- 
ly lift my hand ; but my slight movement caused 
her to look around, and in . answer to my gaze of 
eager inquiry she came softly and hesitatingly tow- 
ard me. 

“ Miss Warren,” I said, ‘‘ can it be you in very 
truth ?” 

Yes,” she replied, with asudden and glad light- 
ing up of her face, “ but please don’t talk.” 

How you relieve me,” I tried to say joyfully, 
but I found I could only whisper. What the mis- 
chief — makes my voice — so weak ? Do you know 
— that I had the odd — impression — that you were 
an apparition — and had come to me — as a token — 
that — you were in trouble — and I tried to rise — to 
go to your aid — then it seemed yourself — that looked 
around. But you are in trouble — why can’t I get 
up and help you ?” 

She trembled, and by her gesture tried to stop 
my words. 

“ Will you do what I ask ?” she said, in a low, 
eager tone. 

I smiled as I replied, Little need of your asking 
that question.” 

Then please try to get well speedily ; don’t 
talk, but just keep every little grain of strength. 
Oh, I’m so glad you are in your right mind. You 
have been very ill, but will soon get well now if 
only careful. I’ll call Mrs. Yocornb.” 

“ Please don’t go,” I whispered. Now that I 
know you — it seems so natural — that you should be 
here. So I’ve been ill — and you have taken care of 


RETURNING CONSCIOUSNESS. 


217 


me and I. gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. I 
did not know you at first — idiot ! — but Old Plod 
whinnied — and then it all began to come back.” 

At the word “ Old Plod” she turned hastily tow- 
ard the door. Then, as if mastered by an impulse, 
she returned, and said, in a tone that thrilled even 
my feeble pulse, 

“ Oh, live ! in mercy live, or else I can never for- 
give myself.” 

I’ll live — never fear,” I replied, with a low 
laugh. I’m not such a fool as to leave a world 
containing youT^ 

A rich glow overspread her face, she smiled, then 
suddenly her face became very pale, and she even 
seemed frightened as she hastily left the room. 

A moment later Mrs. Yocomb came in, full of 
motherly solicitude. 

“ Kind Mrs. Yocomb,” I murmured, “ I am glad 
I’m in such good hands.” 

Thank God, Richard Morton,” she said, in low, 
fervent tones, ^^thee’s going to get well. But 
don’t speak a word.” 

Wasn’t that Zillah crying?” 

Yes, she was heart-broken about thee being so 
sick, but she’ll laugh now when I tell her thee’s bet- 
ter. Take this, and sleep again.” 

“ Bless her kind heart !” I said. 

Mrs. Yocomb laid her finger on my lips. I saw 
her pour out something, which I swallowed unquess 
tioningly, and after a moment sank into a quiet 
sleep. 


CHAPTER IV. 


IN THE DARK. 


ES, Mrs. Yocomb, good nursing and nour« 



i ishment are all that he now requires,” were 
the reassuring words that greeted my waking later 
in the evening. I opened my eyes, and found that 
a physician was feeling my pulse. 

I turned feebly toward my kind hostess, and 
smilingly whispered. 

There’s no fear of my wanting these where you 
are, Mrs. Yocomb ; but don’t let me make trouble. 
I fear I’ve made too much already.” 

The only way thee can make trouble, Richard, 
is to worry about making trouble. The more we 
can do for thee the better we shall be pleased. All 
thee’s got to do is to get well and take thy time 
about it.” 

That’s just like you. How long have I been 


ill ?” 


“ That’s none of thy business at present. One 
thing at a time. The doctor has put thee in m)’ 
hands, and I’m going to make thee mind.” 

I’ve heard that men were perfect bears whei\ 
getting well,” I said. 

Thee can be a bear if thee feels like it, but not 
another word to-night — not another syllable ; am I 
not right, doctor 7 ' 

*‘Yes, I prescribe absolute quiet of mind and 


IN THE DARK 


219 


body ; that and good living will bring you around 
in time. You’ve had a narrow graze of it, but 
if you will mind Mrs. Yocomb you will yet die of 
old age. Good night.” 

My nurse gave me what she thought I needed, 
and darkened the room. But it was not so dark 
but that I saw a beautiful face in the doorway. 

Miss Warren,” I exclaimed. 

“It was Adah,” said Mrs. Yocomb quietly; 
“ she’s been very anxious about thee.” 

“You are all so kind. Please thank her for me,” 
I replied eagerly. 

“Mother, may I speak to Richard Morton?” 
asked a timid voice from the obscurity of the hall- 
way. 

“ Not to-night, Adah — to-morrow.” 

“ Forgive me if I disobey you this once,” I inter- 
rupted hastily. “ Yes, Miss Adah, I want to thank 
you.” 

She came instantly to my side, and I held out 
my hand to her. I wondered why hers throbbed 
and trembled so strangely. 

“ It’s I who should thank thee : I can never thank 
thee enough. Oh, I feared I might — I might never 
have a chance.” 

“ There, Adah, thee mustn’t say another word ; 
Richard’s too weak yet.” 

Her hand closed tightly over mine. “ Good-by,” 
she breathed softly, and vanished. 

Mrs. Yocomb sat down with her knitting by a 
distant and shaded lamp. 

Too weak to think, or to realize aught except that 


220 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


I was surrounded by an atmosphere of kindness and 
sympathy, I was well content to lie still and watch, 
through the open window, the dark foliage wave to 
and fro, and the leaves grow distinct in the light of 
the rising moon, which, though hidden, I knew 
must be above the eastern mountains. I had the 
vague impression that very much had happened, 
but I would not think ; not for the world would I 
break the spell of deep quietude that enthralled 
every sense of my body and every faculty of my 
mind. 

“ Mrs. Yocomb,” I said at last, “ it must be you 
who creates this atmosphere of perfect peace and 
restfulness. The past is forgotten, the future a 
blank, and I see only your serene face. A subdued 
light seems to come from it, as from the shaded 
lamp.” 

“ Thee is weak and fanciful, Richard. The doc- 
tor said thee must be quiet.” 

“ I wish it were possible to obey the doctor for- 
ever, and that this exquisite rest and oblivion could 
last. I am like a ship becalmed on a summer sea in 
a summer night. Mind and body are both motion- 
less.” 

“ Sleep, Richard Morton, and when rested and 
well, may gales from heaven spring up and carn^ thee 
homeward. Fear not even rough winds, if they 
bear thee toward the only true home. Now thy 
only duty is to rest.” 

“You are not going to sit up to-night, Mrs. 
Yocomb.” 

She put her finger on her lips. 


IN THE DARN. 


221 


“ Hush !” she said. 

“ Oh, delicious tyranny !” I murmured. “ The 
ideal government is that of an absolute and friendly 
power.” 

I had a vague consciousness of being wakened 
from time to time, and of taking something from 
Mrs. Yocomb’s hand, and then sinking back into an 
enthrallment of blessed and refreshing slumber. 
With every respiration life and health flowed back. 

At last, as after my first long sleep in the coun- 
try, I seemed to hear exquisite strains of music that 
swelled into richer harmony until what seemed a 
burst of song awoke me. Opening my eyes, I 
looked intently through the open window and gladly 
welcomed the early day. The air was fresh, and I 
felt its exhilarating quality. The drooping branches 
of the elm swayed to and fro, and the mountains 
beyond were bathed in light. I speedily realized 
that it was the song of innumerable birds that had 
supplied the music of my waking dream. 

For a few moments I gazed through the window, 
with the same perfect content with which I had 
watched the foliage grow distinct in the moonlight 
the previous evening, and then I looked around the 
room. 

I started slightly as I encountered the deep blue 
eyes of Adah Yocomb fixed on me with an intent, 
eager wistfulness. 

“ Can I do anything for thee, Richard Morton ?” 
she asked, rising from her chair near the door. 
“ Mother asked me to stay with thee a while, and 
to let her know if thee woke and wanted anything.” 


222 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ With you here this bright morning, how could 
I want anything more ?” I asked, with a smile, for 
her young, beautiful face comported so well with 
the early morning of the summer day as to greatly 
please both my eye and fancy. The color of the 
early morning grew richer in her face as she replied, 

“ Tm glad thee doesn’t want me to go away, but 
I must go and have thy breakfast brought up.” 

“ No, stay ; tell me all that’s happened. I seem 
to have forgotten everything so strangely ! I feel 
as if I had known you all a long time, and yet that 
can’t be, for only the other day I was at my office in 
New York.” 

“ Mother says thee’s too weak to talk yet, and 
that I must not answer questions. She says thee 
knows thee’s been sick and thee knows thee’s get- 
ting well, and that must do till thee’s much 
stronger.” 

“ Oh, I feel ever so much stronger. Sleep and 
the good things your mother has given me have 
made a new man of me.” 

“ Mother says thee has never been sick, and that 
thee doesn’t know how to take care of thyself, and 
that thee’ll use thy strength right up if we don’t 
take good care of thee.” 

‘‘ And are you going to take care of me ?” 

Yes, if thee pleases. I’ll help mother.” 

I should be hard to please were I not glad. I 
shall have so nice a time getting well that I shall be 
tempted to play sick.” 

I’ll — I’ll wait on thee as long as thee’ll let me, 
for no one owes thee more than I do. ’ 


IN THE DARK. 


223 


What in the world do you owe me ?” I asked, 
much perplexed. If you are going to help me 
to get well, and will come to my- room daily with a 
face like this summer morning, I shall owe you 
more than I can ever repay.” 

“ My face w'ould have been black enough but for 
thee ; but I’m glad thee thinks I look well. They 
are all saying I look pale and am growing thin, but 
if thee doesn’t think so I don’t care,” and she 
seemed aglow with pleasure. 

“ It would make a sick man well to look at you,” 
I said, smiling. Please come and sit by me and 
help me to get my confused brain straight once 
more. I have the strangest sense of not knowing 
what I ought to know well. You and your kind 
father and mother brought me home from meeting. 
Your mother said I might stay here and rest. Miss 
Warren was here — she was singing in the parlor. 
Where is Miss Warren ?” 

” She has gone out for a walk,” said the girl a 
little coldly. 

Her manner perplexed me, and, together with 
my thought of Miss Warren, there came a vague 
sense of trouble — of something wrong. I tried to 
raise my hand to my brow, as if to clear away th« 
mist that obscured my mind, and my hand was like 
lead, it was so heavy. 

“ A plague on my memory !” I exclaimed. “ We 
were in the parlor, and Miss Warren was singing. 
Your mother spoke — would that I might hear her 
again ! — it’s all tolerably clear up to that time, and 
then everything is confused,” 


224 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“Adah, how’s this?” said Mrs. Yocomb re- 
proachfully. “ Thee was not to let Richard Mor- 
ton talk.” 

“ I only am to blame, Mrs. Yocomb : I would talk. 
I’m trying to get the past straightened out ; I know 
that something happened the other evening when 
you spoke so beautifully to us, but my memory 
comes up to that point as to an abyss, and I can’t 
bridge it over.” 

“ Richard Morton, doesn’t thee believe that I’m 
thy friend ?’ ’ 

“ My mind would indeed be a total blank if I 
doubted that.” 

“ Well, then, do what I ask thee : don’t ques- 
tion, don’t think. Isn’t it sufficient to know that 
thee has been ill, and that thy life depends on 
quiet ? Thee can scarcely lift thy hand to thy 
head ; thy words are slow and feeble. Can’t thee 
realize that it is thy sacred duty to rest and grow 
strong before taking up the cares and burdens that 
life brings to us all ? Thee looks weak and ex- 
hausted.” 

“ I am indeed weak enough, but I felt almost well 
when I awoke.” 

“ Adah, I fear I can’t trust thee as a nurse,” her 
mother began gravely. 

“Please don’t blame her; it was wholly my 
fault,” I whispered. “ I’ll be very good now, and 
do just what you bid me.” 

“ Well, then, thee must take what I have pre- 
pared, and thy medicine, and sleep again.” 

“ Good-by, Adah,” I s^id, smiling. “ Don’t look 


IN THE DARK. 


225 


SO concerned ; you haven’t done me a bit of harm. 
Your face was as bright and welcome as the sun- 
shine.” 

“ If it hadn’t been for thee — ” she began. 

“ Mrs. Yocomb raised a warning finger, and the 
girl stole away. 

“ Can — can I not see Miss Warren this morning ?’*’ 
I asked hesitatingly. 

“ Thee must sleep first.” 

The medicine she gave evidently contained a 
sedative, or else sleep was the remedy that Nature 
instinctively grasped, for it gave back part of the 
strength that I had lost. 

When I awoke again I felt wonderfully the bet- 
ter for a long rest that had not been broken, but 
made more beneficial from the fact that I was 
slightly roused from time to time to take stimulants 
and nourishment. The heat and glare of the sum- 
mer day had passed. This I could perceive even 
through the half-closed window-blinds. At first I 
thought myself alone, but soon saw that Reuben 
was seated in the farthest corner, quietly carving 
on some wood-work that interested his boyish fancy. 
His round, fresh face was like a tonic. 

“ Well, old fellow,” I laughed, “ so you are play 
ing nurse 1 " 

“ Is thee awake for good, Richard Morton ?” he 
asked, springing up. 

“ I hope so.” 

“ ’Cause mother said that as soon as thee really 
waked up I must call her.” 

“ Oh, wait a moment, and tell me all the news.” 


226 


A DAY or FA TE. 


“ Mother said I mustn’t tell thee anything but to 
get well. ” 

“ I’m never going to get well.” 

“ What !” exclaimed the boy, in consternation. 

Your mother and Miss Adah take such good 
care of me that I am going to play sick the rest of 
my life,” I explained, laughing. “ How is Dap- 
ple ?” 

“ Oh, thee’s only joking, then. Well, all I ask 
of thee is to get well just enough to drive Dapple 
around with me. He’ll put life into thee — never 
fear. When I get hold of the. reins he fairly makes 
my hands tingle. But there, mother said I 
shouldn’t let thee talk, but tell her right away,” 
and he started for the door. 

“ How is Miss Warren ? Is she never coming to 
see me ?” 

“ Emily Warren’s been dreadfully anxious about 
thee. I never saw any one change so. But to-day 
she has been like a lark. She went with me to 
the village this morning, and she had almost as 
much spirit and life as Dapple. She’s a jolly good 
girl. I like her. We’re all so glad thee’s get- 
ting well we don’t know what to do. Father 
said he felt like jumping over a five-bar fence. 
Only Adah acts kind of queer and glum.” 

“ I think I hear talking,” said Mrs. Yocomb, en- 
tering. 

Dear Mrs. Yocomb,” I laughed, “ you are the 
most amiable and beneficent dragon that ever 
Watched over a captive.” 

“ Thee wants watching. The moment my back’s 


m THE DARK. 


227 


turned taee’s into mischief, and the young people 
are just as bad. Reuben, I might better have left 
Zillah here.” 

‘ Do let her come, ” I exclaimed ; “ she'll do more 
good than medicine.” 

“ Well, she shall bring thee up thy chicken-broth ; 
that will please her wonderfully. Go away, Reu- 
ben, and tell Zillah to bring the broth — not another 
word. Does thee feel better, Richard ?” 

“Oh, I am almost well. I’m ashamed to own 
how hungry I am.” 

“ That's a good sign — a very good sign.” 

“ Mrs. Yocomb, how did I become so ill? I'm 
haunted by the oddest sense of not remembering 
something that happened after you spoke to us the 
other evening.” 

“ There's nothing strange in people's being sick 
— thee knows that. Then thee had been overwork- 
ing so long that thee had to pay the penalty.” 

“ Yes, I remember that. Thank Heaven I drifted 
into this quiet harbor before the storm came. 1 
should have died in New York.” 

“ Well, thee knows where to come now when 
thee's going to have another bad turn. I hope, 
however, that thee'll be too good a man to over- 
work so again. Now thee's talked enough.” 

“ Can I not see Mr. Yocomb, and — and — Miss 
Warren this evening ?” 

“ No, not till to-morrow. Father’s been waiting 
till I said he could come ; but he’s so hearty like 
that I won’t trust him till thee's stronger.” 

“ Is — is Miss Warren so hearty like also ? It 


22S 


A Djy OF FA TE, 


seems to me her laugh would put life into a mum- 
my. ’ ’ 

‘ Well, thee isn’t a mummy, so she can’t come 
•till to-morrow. ” 

She had been smoothing my pillow and bathing 
my face with cologne, thus creating a general sense 
of comfort and refreshment. Now she lifted my 
head on her strong, plump arm, and brushed my 
hair. Tears came into my eyes as I said brokenly, 

“ I can remember my mother doing this for me 
when I was ill once and a little fellow. I’ve taken 
care of myself ever since. You can have no idea 
how grateful your manner is to one who has no one 
to care for him specially.” 

“ Thee’ll always have some one to care for thee 
now ; but thee mustn’t say anything more and I 
saw strong sympathy in her moist eyes. 

“Yes,” I breathed softly, “ I should have died in 
New York. ” 

“ And thee said an imp from the printing-house 
could take care of thee, ’’she replied, with a low laugh. 

“ Did I say that ? I must have been out of my 
head.” 

“ Thee’ll see that all was ordered for the best, 
and be content when thee gets strong. People are 
often better every way after a good fit of sickness. 
I believe the Good Physician will give his healing 
touch to thy soul as well as thy body. Ah, here 
is Zillah. Come in, little girl. Richard wishes to 
see thee.” 

Bearing a bowl in both hands, she entered hesita- 
tingly. 


IN' THE DARK, 


22g 


“ Why, Zillah, you waiting on me too ! It’s all 
like a fairy tale, and I’m transformed into a great 
prince, and am waited on right royally. I’m going 
to drink that broth to your health, as if you were a 
great lady. It will do me more good than all the 
drugs of all the doctors, just because you are such a 
good little fairy, and have bewitched it.” 

The child dimpled all over with pleasure as she 
came and stood by my side. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad thee’s getting well !” she cried. 
“ Thee talks queer, but not so queer as thee did be- 
fore. Thee — ” 

A warning gesture from her mother checked her, 
and she looked a little frightened. 

“ That will do, Zillah. After Richard has taken 
this I’m not going to let him talk for a long 
time.” 

“ Do you want to make me all well, Zillah ?” I 
asked, smiling into her troubled and sympathetic 
face. 

She nodded eagerly and most emphatically. 

“ Then climb on a chair and give me a kiss.” 

After a quick, questioning look at her mother, 
she complied, laughing. 

“ Ah, that puts life into me,” I said. “ You can 
tell them all that you did me more good than the 
doctor. I’ll go with you to see the robins soon.” 

“ I’ve got something else for thee down-stairs,” 
she whispered, “ something that Emily Warren 
gathered for thee,” and she was gone in a flash. 

A moment later she stood in the doorway, an- 
nounced in advance by the perfume of an exquisite 


230 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


cluster of rose-buds arranged in a dainty vase en- 
twined and half hidden with myrtle. 

“ Put the vase on the table by Richard, and then 
thee mustn’t come any more.” 

“ These surely are from the Garden of Eden,” I 
exclaimed. “ These and your kiss, Zillah, will 
make me well. Tell Miss Warren that I am going 
to thank her myself. Good-by now,” and she 
flitted out of the room, bright with the unalloyed 
happiness of a child. 

“ Dear me,” said Mrs. Yocomb, “ thee must in- 
deed get strong fast, for I do have such a time 
keeping the young people out of thy room. Reu- 
ben asks a dozen times a day if he can see thee, and 
father’s nearly as bad. No more shall see thee to- 
day, I promise thee. Now thee must rest till to- 
morrow.” 

I was well content, for the roses brought a pres- 
ence very near. In their fragrance, their beauty, 
their dewy freshness, their superiority to other flow- 
ers, they seemed the emblem of the maiden who 
had made harmony in the garden when Nature was 
at her best. The scene, as we had stood there to- 
gether, grew so vivid that I saw her again almost in 
reality, her face glowing with the undisguised, irre- 
pressible pleasure that had been caused by my un- 
expected tribute to the absolute truthfulness of her 
character. Again I heard her piquant laugh ; then 
her sweet, vibratory voice as she sang hymns that 
awakened other than religious emotions, I fear. 
By an odd freak of fancy the flowers seemed an 
embodied strain from Chopin’s nocturne that she 


IN THE DARK. 231 

had played, and the different shades of color the 
rising and falling of the melody. 

“ What do they mean ?” I murmured to myself. 
“At any rate I see no York and Lancaster buds* 
among them.” 

“ Is thee so very fond of roses that thee gazes so 
long and intently at them Y' Mrs. Yocomb quietly 
asked. 

I started, and I had still sufficient blood to crim- 
son my pallid face. 

Turning away I said, “ They recalled a scene in 
the garden where they grew. It seemed to me that 
Miss Warren had grown there too, she was so like 
them ; and that this impression should have been 
made by a girl bred in the city struck me as rather 
strange.” 

“Thy impression was correct — she’s genuine,” 
Mrs. Yocomb replied gravely, and her eyes rested 
on me in a questioning and sympathetic way that 
I understood better as I thought it over afterward. 

“ Yes,” I said, “ she made just that impression on 
me from the first. We met as strangers, and in a 
few hours, without the slightest effort on her part, 
she won my absolute trust. This at first greatly 
surprised me, for I regret to say that my calling has 
made me distrustful. I soon learned, however, 
that this was just the impression that she should 
make on any one capable of understanding her.” 

A deep sigh was my companion’s only answer. 

“ Mrs. Yocomb,” I continued earnestly, “was I 
taken ill while you were speaking ? I have a vague, 
tormenting impression that something occurred 


232 


J DAY OF FA TF, 


which I cannot recall. The last that I can remem- 
ber was your speaking to us ; and then — and then 
— wasn’t there a storm ?” . 

“ There may have been. We’ve had several 
showers of late. Thee had been overdoing, Rich- 
ard, and thee felt the effects of the fever in thy sys- 
tem before thee or any of us knew what was the 
matter. Thy mind soon wandered ; but thee was 
never violent ; thee made us no trouble — only our 
anxiety. Now I hope I’ve satisfied thee.” 

“ How wondrously kind you’ve all been to such a 
stranger ! But Miss Adah made reference to some- 
thing that I can’t understand.” 

Mrs. Yocomb looked perplexed and annoyed. 
“ I’ll ask Adah,” she said gravely. “ It’s time thee 
took this medicine and slept.” 

The draught she gave me was more quieting than 
her words had been, for I remembered nothing 
more distinctly until I awoke in the brightness of 
another day. 


) 


CHAPTER V. 


A FLASH OF MEMORY. 

I FOUND my spirits attuned to the clear sun- 
shine of the new day, and congratulated my- 
self that convalescence promised to be so speedy. 
Again I had the sense that it was my body only 
that was weak and exhausted by disease, for my 
mind seemed singularly elastic, and I felt as if the 
weight of years and toil had dropped away, and I 
was entering on a new and higher plane of exist- 
ence. An unwonted hopefulness, too, gave buoyan- 
cy to my waking thoughts. 

My first conscious act was to look for my flow- 
ers. They had been removed to a distant table, 
and in their place was a larger bouquet, that, for 
some reason, suggested Adah. “ It's very pretty," 
I thought, “ but it lacks the dainty, refined 
quality of the other. There's too much of it. 
One is a bouquet ; the other suggests the bushes 
on which the buds grew, and their garden home." 

From the sounds I heard, I knew the family was 
at breakfast, and before very long a musical laugh 
that ^hrilled every nerve with delight rang up the 
stairway, and I laughed in sympathy without know- 
ing why. 

Happy will the home be in which that laugh 
/ makes music," I murmured. “ Heaven grant it may 
I be mine. Can it be presumption to hope this, when 


234 


A DA y OF FA TF. 


she showed so much, solicitude at my illness? She 
was crying when my recovery was doubtful, and 
she entreated me to live. Reuben’s words suggest- 
ed that she was depressed while I was in danger, 
and buoyant after the crisis had passed. That she 
feels as I do I cannot yet hope. But what the mis- 
chief does she and Adah mean by saying that they 
owe me so much ? It’s I who owe them everything 
for their care during my illness. How long have I 
been ill ? There seems to be something that I 
can’t recall ; and now I think of it, Mrs. Yocomb’s 
account last night was very indefinite.” 

My further musings were interrupted by the en- 
trance of Mrs. Yocomb with a steaming bowl that 
smelt very savory. 

“Mrs. Yocomb,” I cried, “you’re always wel- 
come ; and that bowl is, too, for I’m hungry as a 
cub. ” 

“ Glad to hear it,” said Mr. Yocomb’s hearty 
voice from the doorway. “ I’ll kill for you a young 
gobbler that Emily Warren thinks is like the apple 
of my eye, if you will promise to eat him.” 

“ No, indeed,” I answered, reaching out my 
hand. “ He is already devoted to Miss Warren’s 
Thanksgiving dinner. May he continue to gobble 
until that auspicious day.” 

“What! do you remember that?” and Mr. 
Yocomb cast a quick look of surprise at his wife. 

“ Yes, I remember everything up to a certain 
point, and then all comes to a full stop. I wish 
you would bridge over the gap for me.” 

“Richard,” interposed Mrs. Yocomb quickly, 


A FLASH OF MEMORY. 


255 


“ it wouldn’t do thee any good to have father tell 
thee what thee said when out of thy mind from 
fever. I can tell thee, however, that thee said 
nothing of which thee need be ashamed..” 

“ Well, I can’t account for it. I must have been 
taken very suddenly. One thing is clear : you are 
the kindest people I ever heard of. You ought to 
be put in a museum.” 

“ Why, Friend Morton, is it queer that we didn’t 
turn thee out of doors or give thee in charge of the 
poormaster ?” 

“ I certainly am the most fortunate man in the 
world,” I said, laughing. “I had broken myself 
down and was about to become very ill, and I start- 
ed off in the dark and never stopped till I reached 
the shelter of Mrs. Yocomb’s wing. If I should tell 
my experience in New York there’d be an exodus 
to the' country among newspaper men.” 

“Thee mustn’t do it,” protested Mr. Yocomb, 
assuming a look of dismay. “ Thee knows I’m 
down on editors : I make thee an exception.” 

“ I should think you had ; but they would not 
expect to be treated one hundredth part so well as 
you have treated me. ” 

“ Well, bring thy friends, editors or otherwise. 
Thy friends will be welcome.’’ 

“ I fear I’ll be selfish ; I feel as if I had made too 
rich a discovery to show it to others.” 

“ Now, father, thee’s had thy turn, and must go 
right out and let Richard take his breakfast and his 
medicine. I’m bent on making Dr. Bates say I’m 
the best nurse in town^ and between such a lively 


236 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


patient and such a lively family I have a hard time 
of it.” 

“ Well, thee knows I always mind, mother,” said 
the old gentleman, putting on a rueful look. “ I 
do it, thee knows, to set the children an example. 
Good-by now ; mother will make thee as hearty as 
I am if thee’ll mind her.” 

“ Oh, I’m well enough to see everybody to-day,” 
I said with emphasis, and I imagined that Mrs. Yo- 
comb gave as definite a meaning to my indefinite 
term as I did. 

“ No one can stay long yet ; but if thee continues 
to improve so nicely, we can move thee down-stairs 
part of the day before very long.” 

“At that prospect I’ll mind as well as Mr. Yo- 
comb himself,” I cried gladly. “ Mr. Yocomb, they 
are spoiling me. I feel like a great petted boy, 
and behave like one, I fear ; but having never been 
ill, I don’t know how to behave.” 

“ Thee’s doing very well for a beginner. Keep 
on — keep on,” and his genial visage vanished from 
the doorway. 

After I had my breakfast, Zillah flitted in and 
out with her mother two or three times. 

“ Mother says I can look at thee, but I mustn’t 
talk ;” and she wouldn’t. 

Then Adah, with her wide-brimmed hat hanging 
on her arm, brought me a dainty little basket of 
wild strawberries. 

“ I promised to gather them for thee,” she said, 
placing them on my table. 

“You did? I had forgotten that,” I replied. 


A FLASH OF MEMORY. 


237 


I fear my memory is playing me sad tricks. You 
have just gathered them, I think 

“ What makes thee think so j 

“ Because their color has got into your cheeks.'* 

** I hope thee’ll like them — the strawberries, I 
mean.” 

I laughed heartily as I answered, “ I like both. 
I don’t see how either could be improved upon.” 

“ I think thee likes a city pallor best,” she re- 
plied, shaking her head. 

I imagine that a faint tinge of the strawberry 
came into my face, for she gave me a quick glance 
and turned away. 

“ Adah,” said Mrs. Yocomb, entering, “ thee can 
take thy sewing and sit here by the door for a while. 
Call me if Richard wants anything. The doctor 
will be here soon.” 

“ Would thee like to have me stay?” she asked 
timidly. 

“ Indeed I would. Mrs. Yocomb, can I eat these 
strawberries? I’ve devoured them with my eyes 
already.” 

“ Yes, if the doctor says so, and thee’ll promise 
not to talk much.” 

I made no promise, for I was bent on talking, as 
convalescents usually are, I believe, and Adah for- 
got her sewing, and her blue eyes rested on me 
with an intentness that at last grew a little embar- 
rassing. She said comparatively little, and her 
words had much of their old directness and simplic- 
ity ; but the former flippancy and coloring of small 
vanity was absent. Her simple morning costume 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


23S 

was scrupulously neat, and quite as becoming as the 
Sunday muslin which I had so admired, and she had 
fastened at her breastpin a rose that reminded me 
of the one I had given her on that wretched Sunday 
afternoon when she unconsciously and speedily dis- 
pelled the bright dream that I had woven around 
her. 

“ For some reason she has changed very much,’* 
I thought, “ and I’m glad it’s for the better.” 

Zillah came in, and leaned on her lap as she asked 
her a question or two. “ Surely the little girl 
would not have done that the first day I met her,” 
I mused, then added aloud, 

“You are greatly changed. Miss Adah. What 
has happened to you ?” 

She blushed vividly at my abrupt question, and 
did not answer for a moment. Then she began 
hesitatingly, 

“ From what mother says, it’s time I changed a 
little. ” 

“ I think Zillah likes you now as she does Miss. 
Warren.” 

“No, she likes Emily Warren best — so does 
every one.” 

“You are mistaken. Zillah could not have 
looked at Miss Warren differently from the way in 
which she just looked at you. You have no idea 
what a pretty picture you two then made.” 

“ I did not think about it.” 

“ I imagine you don’t think about yourself as 
much as you did. Perhaps that’s the change Fm 
conscious of.” 


A FLASH OF MEMORY. 


239 


“ I don’t think about myself at all any more,” 
and she bent low over her work. 

Dr. Bates now entered with Mrs. Yocomb, and 
Adah slipped quietly away. 

After strong professions of satisfaction at my 
rapid convalescence, and giving a medicine that 
speedily produced drowsiness, he too departed. 

I roused up slightly from time to time as the day 
declined, and finding Reuben quietly busy at his 
carving, dozed again in a delicious, dreamy restful- 
ness. In one of these half-waking moments I heard 
a low voice ask, 

“ Reuben, may I come in ?” 

Sleep departed instantly, and I felt that I 
must be stone dead before I could be unmoved 
by those tones, now as familiar as if heard all my 
life. 

“Yes, please come,” I exclaimed; “and you 
have been long in coming.” 

Reuben sprang up with alacrity as he said, “I’m 
glad thee’s come, Emily. Would thee mind stay- 
ing with Richard for a little while ? I want to take 
Dapple out before night. If I don’t, he gets frac- 
tious.” 

“ I will take your place for a time, and will call 
Mrs. Yocomb if Mr. Morton needs anything. ” 

“ I assure you I won’t need anything as long as 
you’ll stay,” I began, as soon as we were alone. 
“ I want to thank you for the rose-buds. They 
were taken away this morning ; but I had them 
brought back and placed here where I could touch 
them. They seemed to bring back that June even- 


240 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


ing in the old garden so vividly that I’ve lived the 
scene over and over again.” 

She looked perplexed, and colored slightly, but 
said smilingly, Mrs. Yocomb will think I’m a poor 
nurse if I let you talk too much.” 

“Then talk to me. I promise to listen as long 
as you will talk.” 

“Well, mention an agreeable subject.” 

“Yourself. What have you been doing in the 
ages that have elapsed since I came to life. It 
seems as if I had been dead, and I can’t recall a 
thing that happened in that nether world. I only 
hope I didn’t make a fool of myself.” 

“I’m sorry to say you were too ill to do anything 
very bad. Mr, Morton, you can’t realize how glad 
we all are that you are getting well so fast.” 

“ I hope I can’t realize how glad jyou are, and yet 
I would like to think that you are very glad. Do 
you know what has done me the most good to- 
day ?” 

“How should I know ?” she asked, looking away, 
with something like trouble in her face. 

“ I heard your laugh this morning while you were 
at breakfast, and it filled all the old house with 
music. It seemed to become a part of the sun- 
shine that was shimmering on the elm-leaves that 
swayed to and fro before my window, and then the 
robins took it up in the garden. By the way, 
have you seen the robin’s nest that Zillah showed 
us ?” 

“Yes,” she replied, “but it’s empty, and the 
c^ueer little things that Zillah s^id were all ‘ mouth 


A FLAS/I OF MEMORY. 


241 


and swallow ’ are now pert young robins, rollicking 
around the garden all day long. They remind me 
of Reuben and Dapple. I love such fresh young 
life, unshadowed by care or experience.’' 

I believe you ; and your sympathy with such 
life will always keep you young at heart. I can’t 
imagine you growing old ; indeed, truth is never 
old and feeble.” 

“You are very fanciful, Mr. Morton,” she said, 
with a trace of perplexity again on her face. 

“ I have heard that that was a characteristic of 
sick people,” I laughed. 

“Yes; we have to humor them like children,” 
she added, smoothing her brow as if thiswere an ex- 
cuse for letting me express more admiration than 
she relished. 

“Well,” I admitted, “ Tve never been ill and 
made much of before, since I was a little fellow, and 
my mother spoiled me, and I’ve no idea how to be- 
have. Even if I did, it would seem impossible to 
be conventional in this house. Am I not the most 
singularly fortunate man that ever existed ? Like 
a fool I had broken myself down, and was destined 
to be ill. I started off as aimlessly as an arrow shot 
into the air, and here I am, enjoying your society 
and Mrs. Yocomb’s care.” 

“ It is indeed strange,” she replied musingly, as 
if half speaking to herself ; “ so strange that I can- 
not understand it. Life is a queer tangle at best. 
That is, it seems so to us sometimes.” 

“ I assure you I am glad to have it tangled for me 
in this style,” I said laughing. “ My only dread 


242 


A DAY OF FA TE 


is getting out of the snarl. Indeed, Fm sorely 
tempted to play sick indefinitely." 

“ In that case we shall all leave you here to your- 
self." 

I think have done that already." 

“ What would your paper do without you ?" she 
asked, with her brow slightly knitted and the color 
deepening in her cheeks. 

Recalling what you said, Fm tempted to think 
it is doing better without me." 

‘‘You imagine I said a great deal more than I 
did." 

“ No^ I remember everything that happened until 
I was taken ill. It’s strange -I was taken so sud- 
denly. I can see you playing Chopin’s nocturne 
as distinctly as I see you now. Do you know that I 
had the fancy that the cluster of roses you sent me 
was that nocturne embodied, and that the shades 
of color were the variations in the melody?" 

“ You are indeed very fanciful. I hope you will 
grow more rational as you get well." 

“ I remember you thought me slightly insane in 
the garden." 

“Yes; and you promised that you would see 
things just as they are after leaving it." 

“ I can’t help seeing things just as they seem to 
me. Perhaps I do see them just as they are." 

“ Oh, no ! To a matter-of-fact person like my- 
self, you are clearly very fanciful. If you don’t 
improve in this respect, you’ll have to take a course 
in mathematics before returning to your work or 
you will mislead your readers." 


A FLASH OF MEMORY. 


243 


‘‘ No, I’m going to take a course of weeding in 
the garden, and you were to invite me into the 
arbor as soon as 1 had done enough to earn my salt. ” 

“ I fear you will pull up the vegetables.” 

“ You can at least show me which are the pota- 
toes. ” 

In spite of a restraint that she tried to disguise, 
she broke out into a low laugh at this reminiscence, 
and said, “ After that revelation of ignorance you 
will never trust me again.” 

“ I will trust you in regard to everything except 
kitchen vegetables,” I replied, more in earnest than 
in jest. 

“ A most important exception,” she responded, 
her old troubled look coming back. “ But you are 
talking far too much. Your face is slightly flushed. 
I fear you are growing feverish. I will call Mrs. 
Yocomb now. ” 

“ Please do not. I never felt better in my life. 
You are doing me good every moment, and it’s 
so desperately stupid lying helplessly here.” 

“ Well, I suppose I must humor you a few mo- 
ments longer,” she laughed. “ People, when ill, 
are so arbitrary. By the way, your editorial friends 
must think a great deal of you, or else you are valua- 
ble to them, for your chief writes to Mr. Yocomb 
every day about you ; so do some others ; and 
they’ve sent enough fruit and delicacies to be the 
death of an ostrich.” 

“ I’m glad to hear that ; it rather increases one’s 
faith in human nature. I didn’t know whether 
they or any one would care much if I died.” 


244 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ Mr. Morton she said reproachfully. 

“ Oh, I remember my promise to you. If, like a 
cat, I had lost my ninth life, I would live after your 
words. Indeed I imagine that you were the only 
reason I did live. It was your will that saved me, 
for I hadn’t enough sense or spirit left to do more 
than flicker out. ” 

“Do you think so?” she asked eagerly, and a 
rich glow of pleasure overspread her face. 

“ I do indeed. You have had a subtle power over 
me from the first, which I cannot resist, and don’t 
wish to.” 

“ I must go now,” she said hastily. 

“ Please wait,” I entreated. “ I’ve a message for 
Mrs. Yocomb. ” 

She stood irresolutely near the door. 

“ I wish you to tell her — why is it getting dark 
so suddenly ?” 

“ I fear we’re going to have a shower,” and she 
glanced apprehensively toward the window. 

“ When have I seen that look on your face be- 
fore ?” I asked quickly. 

“ You had a message for Mrs. Yocomb ?” 

“ Yes. I wish you would make her realize a lit- 
tle of my unbounded gratitude, which every day in- 
creases. In fact, I can’t understand the kindness of 
this family, it is so hearty, so genuine. Why, I 
was an entire stranger the other day. Then Adah 
and — pardon me — you also used expressions which 
puzzle me very much. I can’t understand how I 
became ill so suddenly. I was feeling superbly that 
Sunday evening, and then everything became a 


A FLASH OF MEMORY. 


245 


blank. Mrs. Yocomb, from a fear of disquieting 
me, won't say much about it. The impression that 
a storm or something occurred that I can’t recall, 
haunts me. You are one that couldn’t deceive if 
you tried.” 

“You needn’t think I’ve anything to tell when 
Mrs. Yocomb hasn’t,” she answered, with a gay 
laugh. 

“ Miss Warren,” I said gravely, “ that laugh isn’t 
natural. I never heard you laugh so before. 
Something did happen.” 

A flash of lightning gleamed across the window, 
and the girl gave an involuntary and apprehen- 
sive start. 

Almost as instantaneously the events I had for- 
gotten passed through my mind. In strong and 
momentary excitement I rose on my elbow, and 
looked for their confirmation in her troubled face. 

“ Oh, forget — forget it all !” she exclaimed, in a 
low, distressed voice, and she came and stood be- 
fore me with clasped hands. 

Would to God I had died !” I said despairing- 
ly, and I sank back faint and crushed. “ I had no 
right to speak — to think of you as I did. Good- 
by.” 

“ Mr. Morton — ” 

Please leave me now. I^ too weak to be a 
and I would not lose your esteem.*^ 

But you will get well — you promised me that.” 

“Well!” I said, in a low, bitter tone. “ When 
can I ever be well? Good-by.” 

^Mr. Morton, would you blight my life?” she 



240 


A DA Y OF FA TE. 


asked, almost indignantly. “ Am I to blame for 
this?’' 

Nor am I to blame. It was inevitable. Curses 
on a world in which one can err so fatally.” 

“ Can you not be a brave, generous man ? If 
this should go against you — if you will not get well 
ou promised me to live.” 



I will exist ; but can one whose heart is stone, 
and hope dead, live? I’ll do my best. No, you 
are not to blame — not in the least. Take the whole 
comfort of that truth. Nor was I either. That 
Sunday was the day of my fate, since for me to see 
you was to love you by every instinct and law of 
my being. But I trust, as you said, you will find 
me too honorable to seek that which belongs to 
another.” 

“ Mr. Morton,” she said, in tones of deep dis- 
tress, “ you saved this home ; you saved Mrs. Yo- 
comb’s life ; you — you saved mine. Will you em- 
bitter it ?” 

“ Would to God I had died !” I groaned. “ All 
would then have been well. I had fulfilled my mis- 
sion.” 

She wrung her hands as she stood beside me. 
“ I can’t — oh, I can’t endure this !” she murmured, 
and there was anguish in her voice. 

I rallied sufficiently to take her hand as I said, 

“ Emily Warren, I understand your crystal truth 
too well not to know that there is no hope for me. 
I’ll bear my hard fate as well as I can ; but you 
must not expect too much. And remember this : I 
shall be like a planet hereafter. The little happi- 


A FLASH OF MEMORY, 


247 


ness I have will be but a pale reflection of yours. 
If you are unhappy, I shall be so inevitably. Not 
a shadow of blame rests on you — the first fair 
woman was not truer than you — I’ll do my best — 
I’ll get up again — soon, I trust, now. If you ever 
need a friend — but you would not so wrong me as 
to go to another — I won’t be weak and lackadaisi- 
cal. Don’t make any change ; let this episode in 
your life be between ourselves only. Good-by.” 

“ Oh, you look so ill — so changed — what can I 
say—?” 

Helpless tears rushed into her eyes. “ You saved 
my life,” she breathed softly ; but as she turned 
hastily to depart she met our hostess. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Yocomb,” she sobbed, ‘‘ he knows all.” 

“ Thee surely could not have told him — ” 

“ Indeed I did not — it came to him like a flash.” 

“ Mrs. Yocomb, by all that's sacred, Miss Warren 
is not to blame for anything — only myself. Please 
keep my secret ; it shall not trouble any one ;” and 
I turned my face to the wall. 

“ Richard Morton.” 

“ Dear Mrs. Yocomb, give me time. I’m too 
sorely wounded to speak to any one.” 

“ A man should try to do what is right under all 
circumstances,” she said firmly, “ and it is your 
first and sacred duty to get well. It is time for 
your medicine.” 

I turned and said desperately, “ Give me stimulants 
— give me anything that will make me strong, so 
that I may keep my word ; for if ever a man was 
mortally weak in body and soul, I am.”^ 


A Dji F Oli FA TE. 


248 

“ ril do my best for thee," she said gently, “ fof 
I feel for thee and with thee, as if thee were my 
own son. But I wish thee to remember now and 
always that the only true strength comes from 
Heaven." 


CHAPTER VI. 

WEAKNESS. 


S OUL and body are too nearly related for one 
to suffer without the other’s sympathy .7" Mrs. 
Yocomb mercifully shielded me that evening, mere- 
ly saying that I had seen enough company for one 
day. My sleep that night resulted from opiates in- 
stead of nature’s impulses, and so was unrefreshing, 
and the doctor was surprised to find a change for 
the worse the following morning. Eor two or three 
days the scale wavered, and I scarcely held what I 
had gained. Mrs. Yocomb rarely left me, and I 
believe that I owe my life not only to her excellent 
nursing, but even more to her strong moral support 
— her gentle but unspoken sympathy. I knew she 
understood me, and that her mercy was infinite for 
my almost mortal weakness ; for now that the inex- 
plicable buoyancy which that chief of earthly hopes 
imparts was gone, I sank into an abyss of despond- 
ency from which I feared I could never escape. 
Her wisdom and intuitive delicacy led her to select 
Reuben as her chief assistant. I found his presence 
very restful; for, so far from suspecting, he could 
not understand a wound often more real and painful 
than any received on battle- fieldsj^- I now could not 
have endured Adah’s intent and curious scrutiny, 
and yet I deeply appreciated her kindness, for she 
kept my table laden with delicate fruits and flowers. 
The dainty little vase was replenished daily also 


250 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


with clusters of roses — roses only — and I soon recog 
nized rare and perfect buds that at this late season 
only a florist could supply. The pleasure they gave 
was almost counterbalanced by the pain. Their} 
exquisite color and fragrance suggested a character 
whose perfection daily made my disappointment / 
more intolerable. At last Mrs. Yocomb said, — ^ 

“ Richard Morton, is thee doing thy best to get 
well ? Thee’s incurring a grave responsibility if 
thee is not. Emily Warren is quite alone in the 
world, and she came to me as to a mother when 
thee was taken ill, and told me of thy unfortunate 
attachment. As thee said, she is not to blame, and 
yet such is her kindly and sensitive nature that she 
suffers quite as much as if she were wholly to blame. 
Her life almost depends on thine. She is growing 
pale and ill. She eats next to nothing, and I fear 
she sleeps but little. She is just waiting in miser- 
able suspense to see if thee will keep thy word and 
live. I believe thee can live, and grow strong and 
good and noble, if thee will.” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Yocomb, how you must despise me ! 
If you but knew how I loathe myself.” 

“ No, I’m sorry for thee from the depths of my 
heart. If thee’s doing thy best. I’ve not a word to 
say ; but thee should know the truth. As Emily 
said, thee has the power either to embitter her life 
or to add very much to its happiness.” 

“ Well,” I said, “ if I have not the strength to ' 
overcome this unmanly, contemptible weakness, I 
ought to die, and the sooner the better. If I’m 
worth life, I shall live.” 


WEAKNESS. 


251 


If ever a weak, nerveless body yielded to an 
imperious will, mine did. From that hour, as far 
as possible, I gave my whole thought to recovery, 
l»nd was as solicitous as I before had been apathetic. 
No captain could have been more so in regard to 
his ship, which he fears may not outride a storm. 

I appealed to Dr. Bates to rack his brains in the 
preparation of the most effective tonics ; I took 
my food with scrupulous regularity ; and in the 
effort to oxygenize my thin pale blood, drew long 
respirations of the pure summer air. Mrs. Yocomb 
daily smiled a warmer and more hearty encourage- 
ment. 

Under the impetus of a resolute purpose the 
wheels of life began to move steadily and at last 
rapidly toward the goal of health. I soon was able 
to sit up part of the day. 

As I rallied, I could not help recognizing the 
richer coloring that came into the life at the farm- 
house, and the fact touched me deeply. 

“ What is my suffering compared with the happi- 
ness of this home?” I thought. “ It would have 
been brutally selfish to have died.” 

I now had my letters brought to me. My paper 
— my first love — was daily read, and my old interest 
in its welfare kindled slowly. 

Work,” I said, “is the best of antidotes. It 
/ shall be my remedy. Men are respected only as 
! they stand on their feet and work, and I shall win 
\ her respect to the utmost.” 

Reuben and Adah read to me. The presence of 
the former, like that of his father and mother, was 


252 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


very restful ; but Adah began to puzzle me. At 
first I ascribed her manner to an extravagant sense 
of gratitude, and the romantic interest which a 
young girl might naturally take in one who had 
passed with her through peril, and who seemingly 
had been dangerously ill in consequence ; but I was 
compelled at last to see that her regard was not 
open, frank, and friendly, but shy, absorbing, and^ 
jealous. It gave her unmingled satisfaction that I 
did not ask for Miss Warren, and she rarely spoke., 
of her. When she did she watched me keenly, as 
if seeking to read my thoughts. Reuben, on the 
contrary, spoke freely of her ; but, from some re- 
straint placed upon him by his mother probably, 
did not ask her to relieve him in his care of me 
again. 

After I began to sit up. Miss Warren would not 
infrequently come to my door, when others were 
present, and smilingly express her gladness that I 
was improving daily. Indeed there would often be 
quite gay repartee between us, and I think that 
even Adah was so blinded by our manner that her 
suspicions were allayed. It evidently puzzled her, 
and Reuben also, that I had apparently lost my in- 
terest in one who had such great attractions for me 
at first. But Adah was not one to seek long and 
deeply for subtle and hidden causes of action. She 
had a quick eye, however, for what was apparent, 
and scanned surfaces narrowly. I fear I perplexed 
her as sorely as she did me. 

In spite of every effort to remain blind to the 
truth, I began to fear that she was inclined to give 


IVEAA^NESS. 


253 


me a regard which I had not sought, and which 
would embarrass me beyond measure. 

That a man can exult over a passion in a woman 
which he cannot requite is marvellous. That he 
can look curiously, critically, and complacently on 
this most sacred mystery of a woman’s soul, that 
he can care no more for her delicate incense than 
would a grim idol, is proof that his heart is akin to 
the stony idol in material, and his nature like that 
of the gross, cruel divinity represented. The vanity 
that can feed on such food has a more depraved 
appetite than the South Sea Islander, who is con- 
tent with human flesh merely. It would seem that 
there are those who can smile to see a woman waste 
the richest treasures of her spiritual life which were 
designed to ^ last and sustain through the long 
journey of life — ay, and even boast of her immeasu- 
rable loss, of which they, wittingly or unwittingly, 
have been the cause. 

The oddest part of it all is that women can love 
such men instead of regarding them as spider-like 
monsters that, were the doctrine of transmigration 
true, would become spiders again as soon as com- 
pelled to drop their human disguise. 

But women usually idealize the men they love 
into something very different from what they are. 
Heaven knows that I was not a saint ; but I am 
glad that it caused me pain, and pain only, as I 
saw Adah shyly and almost unconsciously bending 
on me glances laden with a priceless gift, which, 
nevertheless, I could not receive. 

lier nature was too simple and direct for disguises, 


254 


A DA y OF FA TE. 


and when she attempted them they were often so 
apparent as to be comically pathetic. And yet she 
did attempt them. There was nothing bold and 
unmaidenly in her manner, and as I look back 
upon those days I thank God that I was never so 
graceless and brutal as to show or feel anything like 
contempt for her gentle, childlike preference. Very 
possibly also my own unfortunate experience made 
me more considerate, and it was my policy to treat 
her with the same frank, undisguised affection that 
I manifested toward Zillah, with, of course, the 
differences required by their different ages. 

Adah was no longer repulsive to me. The events 
of that memorable night of storm and danger, and 
the experiences that followed, had apparently 
awakened her better nature, which, although having 
a narrow compass, was gentle and womanly. Her 
old flippancy was gone. My undisguised preference 
for Miss Warren after I had actually made her ac- 
quaintance, and my persistent blindness to every- 
thing verging toward sentiment, had perhaps done 
something toward dispelling her belief that beauty 
and dress were irresistible. Thus she may have 
been led honestly to compare herself with Emily 
Warren, who was not only richly endowed but 
highly cultivated ; at any rate her small vanity had 
vanished also, and she was in contrast as self-dis- 
trustful and hesitating in manner as she formerly 
had been abrupt and self-asserting. Moreover she 
had either lost her interest in her neighbor’s petty 
affairs, or else had been made to feel that a ten- 
dency to gossip was not a captivating trait, and we 


JVEAJCNESS. 


255 


heard no more about what this one said or that one 
wore on her return from meeting. While her regard 
was undoubtedly sincere, I felt and hoped that it 
was merely a sentiment attendant on her wakening 
and fuller spiritual life, rather than an abiding and 
deep attachment ; and I believed that it would 
soon be replaced by other interests after my de- 
parture. For my own sake as well as hers I had 
decided to leave the farm-house as speedily as pos- 
sible, but I soon began to entertain the theory 
that I could dispel her dreams better by remaining 
a little longer, and by proving that she held the 
same place in my thoughts as Zillah, and could 
possess no other. There would then be no vain im- 
aginings after I had gone. 

I rather wanted to stay until I had fully recovered 
my health, for I was beginning to take pride in my 
self-mastery. If I could regain my footing, and 
stand erect in such quiet, manly strength as to 
change Miss Warren’s sympathy into respect only, 

I felt that I would achieve a victory that would be 
a source of satisfaction for the rest of life. That I 
could do this I honestly doubted, for seemingly she 
had enthralled my whole being, and her power over 
me was well nigh irresistible. 

I knew that she understood Adah even better 
than I did, and it seemed her wish to afford the girl 
every opportunity, for she never came to ask how I 
was when Adah, was present ; and the latter was 
honest enough to tell me that it was Miss Warren 
who had suggested some of the simple yet interest- 
ing stories with which my long hours of convales- 


256 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


cence were beguiled ; but in her latent jealousy she 
could not help adding, 

“ Since Emily Warren selected them, thee cannot 
help liking them.” 

“ I certainly ought to like them doubly,” I had 
quietly replied, looking directly into her eyes, 
“ since I am indebted for them to two friends in- 
stead of one.” 

“ There’s a great difference in friends,” she said 
significantly. 

“Yes, indeed,” I replied, smiling as frankly as if 
I had been talking to Zillah ; “ and your mother is 
the best friend I have or ever expect to have.” 

Adah had sighed deeply, and had gone on with 
her reading in a girlish, plaintive voice that was 
quite different from her ordinary tones. 

Unconsciously she had imbibed the idea — proba- 
bly from what she often heard at meeting — that any- 
thing read or spoken consecutively must be in a 
tone different from that used in ordinary conversa- 
tion, and she always lifted up her voice into an odd, 
plaintive little monotone, that was peculiar, but not 
at all disagreeable. It would not have been natural 
in another, but was perfectly so to her, and har- 
monized with her unique character. The long 
words even in the simple stories were often formida- 
ble obstacles, and she would look up apprehensively, 
and color for fear I might be laughing at her ; but 
I took pains to gaze quietly through the window in 
serene unconsciousness. She also stumbled because 
her thoughts evidently were often far away from 
her bypkj but my cordial thanks when finishing 


WEAKNESS. 


^57 


the story her face would glow with pleasure. And 
yet she missed something in my thanks, or else saw, 
in the quiet manner with which I turned to my let- 
ters or paper, that which was unsatisfactory, and 
she would sigh as she left the room. Her gentle, 
patient efforts to please me, which oddly combined 
maidenly shyness and childlike simplicity, often 
touched the depths of my heart, and the thought 
came more than once, “ If this is more than a girl- 
ish fancy, and time proves that I am essential to\ 
her happiness — which is- extremely doubtful — per-' 
haps I can give her enough affection to content a 
nature like hers,” 

But one glimpse of Emily Warren would banish 
this thought, for it seemed as if my very soul were 
already wedded to her. “ The thought of another 
'TsTmpossible, ’ ’ I would mutter. “ She was my fate. 

Four or five of the days during which I had been 
sufficiently strong to sit up had passed away, and I 
was able to give more of my time to my mail and 
paper, and thus to seem preoccupied when Adah 
came to read. I found Zillah also a useful though 
unconscious ally, and I lured her into my room by 
innumerable stories. Reuben and Mr. Yocomb were 
now very busy in their harvest, and I saw them 
chiefly in the evening, but they were too tired to 
stay long. Time often hung wofully heavy on my 
hands, and I longed to be out of doors again ; but 
Mrs. Yocomb was prudently inexorable. I am sure 
that she restrained Adah a great deal, for she grew 
less and less demonstrative in manner, and I was 
left more to myself. 


258 


A DA Y OF FA TE. 


Thus a week passed. It was Saturday morning, 
and between the harvest without and preparations 
for Sunday within, all the inmates of the farmhouse 
were very busy. The forenoon had well nigh 
passed. I had exhausted every expedient to kill 
time, and was looking on the landscape shimmering 
in the fierce sunlight, with an apathy that was dull 
and leaden in contrast, when a low knock caused 
me to look up ; but instead of Adah, as I expected, 
Miss Warren stood in the doorway. 

“ They are all so busy to-day,” she said hesitat- 
ingly, “ that I thought I might help you pass an 
hour or two. It seems too bad that you should be 
left to yourself so long.” 

To my disgust, I — who had resolved to be so 
strong and self-poised in her presence — felt that 
every drop of blood in my body had rushed into my 
face. It certainly must have been very apparent, 
for her color became vivid also. 

“ I fear I was having a stupid time,” I began 
awkwardly. ‘ I don’t want to make trouble. Per- 
haps Mrs. Yocomb needs your help.” 

“ No,” she said, smiling, “ you can’t banish me 
on that ground. I’ve been helping Mrs. Yocomb 
all the morning. She’s teaching me how to cook. 
I’ve succeeded in proving that the family would 
have a fit of indigestion that might prove fatal were 
it wholly dependent on my performances.” 

“Tell me what you made?” I said eagerly. 
“ Am I to have any of it for my dinner ?” 

“ Indeed you are not. Dr. Bates would have me 
indicted,” 



Miss Warren Stood in the Doorway. 


Day of 


Page 258 



. %- 



WJBIAKNESS. 


259 


She looked at me with solicitude, for although I 
had laughed with her I felt ill and faint. Despair- 
ingly, I thought, “ I cannot see her and live. I 
must indeed go away?^“ 

“ So you are coming down-stairs to-morrow ?” she 
began. “ We shall give you a welcome that ought 
to make any man proud. Mrs. Yocomb is all aglow 
with her preparations.” 

“ I wish they wouldn’t do so,” I said, in a pained 
tone. “I’d much rather slip quietly into my old 
place as if nothing had happened.” 

“ I imagined you would feel so, Mr. Morton,” she 
said gently ; “ but so much has happened that you 
must let them express their abounding gratitude 
in their own way. It will do them good, and they 
will be the happier for it.” 

“ Indeed, Miss Warren, that very word gratitude 
oppresses me. There is no occasion for their feel- 
ing so. Why, Hiram, their man, could not have 
done less. I merely happened to be here. It’s all 
the other way now. If ever a man was overwhelmed 
with kindness, I have been. How can I ever repay 
Mrs. Yocomb ?” 

“ I am equally helpless in that respect ; but I’m 
glad to think that between some of our friends the 
question of repaying may be forgotten. I never 
expect to repay Mrs. Yocomb.” 

“ Has she done so much for you, also ?” 

“ Yes, more than I can tell you.” 

“ Well,” I said, trying to laugh, “ if I ever write 
another paragraph it will be due to her good nurs- 
ing.” 


260 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


“ That is my chief carse for gratitude/’ she said 
hurriedly, the color deepening again in her cheeks. 

“ If you hadn’t — if — I know of your brave effort 
to get well, too — she told me.” 

“ Yes, Miss Warren,” I said quietly, “ I am now 
doing my best.” 

“ And you are doing nobly— so nobly that I am 
tempted to give you a strong proof of friendship : 
to tell you what I have not told any one except 
Mrs. Yocomb. I feel as if I had rather you heard 
it from me than casually from others. It will sho^^ 
^ how — how I trust you.” 

My very heart seemed to stand still, and I think 
my pallor alarmed her; but feeling that she had 
gone too far, she continued hurriedly, taking a let- 
ter from her pocket. 

“ I expect my friend to-night. He’s been absent^ 
and now writes that he will — ” 

I shrank involuntarily as if from a blow, and with 
her face full of distress she stopped abruptly. 

Summoning the whole strength of my manhood, 

I rallied sufficiently to say, in a voice that I knew 
was unnatural from the stress I was under, 

I congratulate you. I trust you may be very 
happy.” 

“ I had hoped — ” she began. “ I would be if I 
saw that you were happy.” 

“You are always hoping,” I replied, trying to 
laugh, “ that I may become sane and rational. 
Haven’t you given that up yet ? I shall be very 
happy to-morrow, and will drink to the health of 
you both.” 


'4 




WEAKNESS. 


26 r 

She looked at me very dubiously, and the trouble 
in her face did not pass away. “ Let me read to 
you,” she said abruptly. “ I brought with me 
Hawthorne’s ‘ Mosses from an Old Manse.’ They 
are not too familiar, I trust?” 

“ I cannot hear them too often,” I said, nerving 
myself as if for torture. 

She began to read that exquisite little character 
study, “The Great Stone Face.” Her voice was 
sweet and flexible, and varied with the thought as 
if the words had been set to music. At first I list- 
ened with delight to hear my favorite auth(c,r so 
perfectly interpreted; but soon, too soon, e ^ery 
: syllable added to my sense of unutterable loss. 

Possibly she intuitively felt my distress, possibly 
she saw it as I tried to look as stoical as an Indian 
chief who is tortured on every side with burning 
brands. At any rate she stopped, and said hesitat- 
ingly, 

“ You — you do not enjoy my reading.” 

With a rather grim smile I replied, “ Nothing but 
the truth will answer with you. I must admit I do 
not.” 

“ Would — would you like to hear something 
else?” she asked, in evident embarrassment. 

“ Nothing is better than Hawthorne,” I said. 
“ I — I fear I’m not yet strong enough.” Then, 
after a second’s hesitation, I spoke out despairingly. 

Miss Warren, I may as well recognize the truth 
/ at once. L never shall be strong enough. I’ve 
I ov errated myself. Good-by.” 

' She trembled ; tears came into her eyes, and she 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


f 62 


silently left the room. So abrupt was her depait- 
ure that it seemed like a flight. 

After she had gone I tottered to my feet, with 
an imprecation on my weakness, and I took an 
amount of stimulant that Dr. Bates would never 
have prescribed ; but it had little effect. In stony^^ 

r sullen protest at my fate, I sat down again, and tbc J 
hours passed like eternities. 


CHAPTER VII. 


OLD PLOD IDEALIZED, 



DAH brought me up my dinner, and I at once 


l \ noted that she was in a flutter of unusual ex- 
citement. Her mother had undoubtedly prepared 
her for the arrival of the expected guest, and made 
known also his relations to one of whom she had 
been somewhat jealous, and it would seem that 
the simple-hearted girl could not disguise her ela- 


tion, 


I was in too bitter a mood to endure a word, and 
yet did not wish to hurt her feelings ; therefore 
she found me more absorbed in my paper and pre- 
occupied than ever before. 

“ Thank you. Miss Adah,” I said, cordially but 
briefly. “ Editors are wretched company ; their 
paper is everything to them, and I’ve something on 
my mind just now that’s very absorbing. ” 

“ Thee isn’t strong enough to work yet,” she said 
sympathetically. 

“ Oh, yes,” I replied, laughing bitterly ; “I’m a 
small edition of Samson. Besides, I’m as poor as 
Job’s impoverished turkey, and must get to work 
again as soon as possible.” 

“ There is no need of thee feeling that way ; 
we — ” and then she stopped and blushed. 

“I know all about ‘we,’” I laughed, “your 
hearts are as large as this wide valley, but then I 


264 


A DAY OF FA T^. 


must keep my self-respect, you know. You have 
no idea how happy you ought to be in such a home 
as yours.” 

“ I like the city better,” she replied, blushing, 
and she hastily left the room. 

My greed for work departed as abruptly. “ Poor 
child !” I muttered. “ ‘ Life is a tangle,' as Miss 
Warren said, and a wretched one, too, for many; of 
us. ” 

Mrs. Yocomb soon after came in, and looked with 
solicitude at my almost untasted dinner. 

“Why, Richard,” she said, ” thy appetite flags 
strangely. Isn't thy dinner to thy taste?” 

“ The fault is wholly in nie,” T replied. 

“ Thee doesn’t look so well — nothing like so 
well. Has Adah said anything to trouble thee ?” 
she asked apprehensively. 

“ No, indeed ; Adah is just as good and kind as 
she can be. She’s becoming as good as she is beau- 
tiful. Every day increases my respect for her 
and I spoke earnestly and honestly. 

A faint color stole into the matron’s cheek, and 
she seemed pleased and relieved, but she remarked 
quietly, 

“Adah’s young and inexperienced.” Then she 
added, with a touch of motherly pride and solici- 
tude, “ She’s good at heart, and I think is trying to 
do right.” 

“ She will make a noble woman, Mrs. Yocomb — 
one that you may well be proud of, or I’m no judge 
of character,” I said, with quiet emphasis. “She 
and Zillah have both been so kind to me that they 


265 


OLD PLOD IDEALIZED. 

already seem like sisters. At any rate, after my 
treatment in this home I shall always feel that I 
owe to them a brother’s duty. ” 

The color deepened in the old lady’s face, that 
was still so fair and comely, and tears stood in her 
eyes. 

“ I understand thee, Richard,” she said quietly. 

“ I thought I loved thee for saving our lives and 
our home, but I love thee more now. Still thee 
cannot understand a mother’s heart. Thee’s a true 
gentleman. ” 

“ Dear Mrs. Yocomb, you must learn to under- 
stand me better or I shall have to run away in self- 
defense. When you talk in that style I feel like an 
arrant hypocrite. I give you my word that I’ve ' 
been swearing this very forenoon.” 

“Who was thee swearing at?” she asked, in 
much surprise. 

“ Myself, and with good reason.” 

“ There is never good reason for such wicked- 
ness,” she said gravely, but regarding me with 
deep solicitude. Presently she added, “ Thee has 
had some great provocation ?” 

“ No ; I’ve been honored with unmerited kind' 
ness and trust, which I have ill requited.” 

“ Emily Warren has been to see thee?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Did she tell thee ?” 

“ Yes ; and I feel that I could throttle that man. 
Now you know what a heathen savage I am.” 

“Yes,” she said dryly, “thee has considerable 
untamed human nature.” Then added, smiling, 


*66 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ ril trust him with thee, nevertheless. I’m in- 
clined to think that for her sake thee’d do more for 
him than for any man living. Now wouldn’t thee?” 

“ Oh, Satan take him ! Yes !” I groaned. “ For- 
give me, Mrs. Yocomb. I’m so unmanned, so 
desperate from trouble, that I’m not fit for decent 
society, much less your company. You believe in 
a Providence : why was this woman permitted to 
enslave my very soul when it was of no use ?” 

“ Richard Morton,” she said reproachfully, “ thee 
is indeed unmanned. Thee’s wholly unjust and 
unreasonable. This gentleman has been Emily 
Warren’s devoted friend for years. He has taken 
care of her little property, and done everything for 
her that her independent spirit would permit. He 
might have sought an alliance among the wealth- 
iest, but he has sued long and patiently for her 
hand—” 

“Well he might,” I interrupted irritably. 
“ Emily Warren is the peer of any man in New 
York.” 

“ Thee knows New York and the world in general 
■’^ell enough to be aware that wealthy bankers do 
not often seek wives from the class to which Emily 
belongs, though in my estimation, as well as in 
thine, no other class is more respectable. But I’m 
not blinded by prejudice, and I think it speaks well 
for him that he is able to recognize and honor worth 
wherever he finds it. Still, he knew her family. 
The Warrens were quite wealthy, too, at one time.” 

“ What is his name ?” I asked sullenly. 

“ Gilbert Hearn.” 


OLD PLOD IDEALIZED. 267 

“ What, Hearn the banker, who resides on Fifth 
Avenue ?” 

“ The same. 

“ I know him — that is, I know who he is — well.” 
Then I added bitterly, “ It’s just like him ; he has 
always had the good things of this world, and always 
will. He’ll surely. marry her.” 

“ Has thee anything against him ?” 

“ Yes, infinitely much against him : I feel as if he 
\vere seeking to marry my wife.” 

“ That’s what thee said when out of thy mind,” 
she exclaimed apprehensively. “ I hope thee is not 
becoming feverish ?” 

“ Oh, no, Mrs. Yocomb, I've nothing against 
him at all. He is pre-eminently respectable, as the 
world goes. He is shrewd, wonderfully shrewd, and 
always makes a ten-strike in Wall Street ; but his 
securing Miss Warren was a master stroke. There, 
I’m talking slang, and disgracing myself generally.” 
But my bitter spirit broke out again in the words, 
“ Never fear ; Gilbert Hearn will have the best in 
the city ; nothing less will serve him 

“ Thee is prejudiced and unjust. I hope thee’ll 
be in a better mood to-morrow,” and she left my 
room looking hurt and grieved. 

I sank back in my chair in wretched, reckless 
apathy, and from the depths of my heart wished 1 
had died. 

After a little time Mrs. Yocomb came hastily in, 
looking half ashamed of her w^eakness, and in her 
hands was a bowl of delicious broth. 

“ My heart relents toward thee,” she said, with 


268 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


moist eyes. “ I ought to have made more allow- 
ance for one whose mother left him much too early. 
Take this, every drop, and remember thy pledge 
to get well and be a generous man. Til trust thee 
to keep thy word, ” and she departed before I could 
speak. 

“ Well, I should be a devil incarnate if I didn’t 
become a man after her kindness,” I muttered, and 
I gulped down the broth and my evil mood at the 
same time. 

At the end of an hour I could almost have shaken 
hands with Gilbert Hearn, who prospered in all that 
he touched. 

As the sun declined I heard' the rustle of a silk 
on the stairway. A moment later Miss Warren 
mounted the horse-block and stood waiting for 
Reuben, who soon appeared in the family rockaway. 

I thought the maiden looked a trifle pale in con- 
trast with her light silk, but perhaps it was the 
shadow of the tree she stood under ; but I mut- 
tered, Even his critical taste can find no fault with 
that form and face ; she’ll grace his princely home, 
and none will recognize the truth more clearly than 
he.” 

She hesitatingly lifted her eyes toward my win- 
dow, and 1 started back, forgetting that I was hid. 
den by the half-closed blinds ; but my face suf- 
fused with pleasure as I said to myself, 

“ He^en bless her! she does not forget me 
wholly, even on the threshold of her happiness.” 

At that moment Old Plod, passing through the 
yard in his early Saturday release from toil, gave a 


OLD PLOD IDEALIZED. 269 

loud whinny of recognition. The young girl started 
visibly, sprang lightly down from the block and 
caressed her great heavy-footed pet, and then, with- 
out another glance at my window, entered the rock- 
away, and was driven rapidly toward the distant 
depot at which she would welcome the most fortu- 
nate man in the world. 

I now felt sure that I had guessed her associa 
tions with the old plough-horse, and, sore-hearted 
as I was, I laughed long and silently over the 
quaint fancy. 

“ Truly," I muttered. “ the courtly and elegant 
banker would not feel flattered if he knew about it. 
How in the world did she ever come to unite the 
two in her mind ?" 

But as I thought it all over I was led to con- 
clude that it was natural enough. The lonely girl 
had no doubt found that even in the best society of 
a Christian city she must ever be warily on her 
guard. She was beautiful, and yet poor and ap- 
parently friendless ; and, as she had intimated, she 
had found many of the young and gay ready to flat- 
ter, and with anything but sincere motives. The 
banker, considerably her senior, had undoubtedly 
proved himself a quiet, steadfast friend. He was 
not the fool to neglect her as did those stupid 
horses, for any oats the world could offer, and she 
always found him, like Old Plod, ready to drop 
everything for her, and well he might. “ No matter 
how devoted he has been, he can never plume him- 
self on any magnanimity," I said to myself. ‘‘ She 
probably finds him a trifle formal and sedate, and 


270 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


rather lacking in ideality, just as Old Plod is very 
stolid till she appears ; but then he is safe and 
strong, and very kind to a friendless girl, who might 
well shrink from the vicissitudes of her lot, and would 
naturally be attracted by the protection and posi- 
tion which he could offer. In spite of the disparity 
of years, a woman might easily love a man who 
could do so much for her, and the banker is still 
well preserved and handsome. Of course Emily 
Warren does love him : all the wealth of Wall Street 
could not buy her. Yes, in a world full of lightning 
flashes she has made a thrifty and excellent choice. 
I may as well own it, in spite of every motive to 
prejudice. Gilbert Hearn is not my ideal man by 
any means. Good things are essential to him. He 
would feel personally aggrieved if the weather was 
bad for two days in succession. He is very charitable 
and public-spirited, and he likes our paper to recog- 
nize the fact : I have proof of that too. Alms given 
in the dark are not exactly wasted — but Em think- 
ing scandal. He so likes to let his ‘ light so shine. 
He’s respectability personified, and the toil-worn 
girl will be taken into an ark of safety. 

“ I suppose I ought to be magnanimous enough 
to think that it’s all for the best, since he can do in- 
finitely more for her than I ever could. She will be 
the millionaire’s wife, and I’ll go back to my dingy 
little office and write paragraphs heavy enough to 
sink a cork ship. Thus Avill end my June idyl ; but 
should I live a century I will always feel that Gil- 
bert Hearn married my wife,” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


AN IMPULSE. 

F or nearly an hour I sat listlessly in my chair 
and watched the shadows lengthen across tliQ 
valley. Suddenly an impulse seized me, and I re- 
solved to obey it. 

“ If I can go down-stairs to-morrow, I can go just 
as well to-night," I said, “ and go I will. She shall 
not have a shadow on her first evening with her 
lover, and she’s too good-hearted to enjoy it wholly 
if she thinks I’m moping and sighing in my room. 
Moreover, I shall not let my shadows make a back- 
ground for the banker’s general prosperity. Stately 
and patronizing he cannot help being, and Miss 
Warren may lead him to think that he is under some 
obligation to me — I wish he might never hear of it 
— but, by Vulcan and his sledge ! he shall have no 
cause to pity me while he unctuously rubs his 
hands in self-felicitation.’’ 

As far as my strength permitted, I made a careful 
toilette, and sat down to wait. As the sun sank be- 
low the horizon the banker appeared. “ Very ap- 
propriate,’’ I muttered ; “ but his presence would 
make it dark at midday.’’ 

Miss Warren was talking with animation, and 
pointing out the surrounding objects of interest, and 
he was listening with a wonderfully complacent 
smile on his smooth, full face. 

“ How prosperous he looks !’’ I muttered. 


272 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


“ The idea of anything going contrary to nis will 
or wishes !" 

Then I saw that a little girl sat on the front seat 
with Reuben, and that he was letting her drive, but 
with his hand hovering near the reins. 

Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb came out and greeted Mr, 
Hearn cordially, and he in return was very benign, 
for it was evident that, in their place and station, he 
found them agreeable people, and quite to his mind. 

“ Why dosenT he take off his hat to Mrs. Yocomb 
as if she were a duchess ?” I growled. “ That trunk 
that fills half the rockaway doesn’t look as if he had 
come to spend Sunday only. Perhaps we are des- 
tined to make a happy family. I wonder who the 
little girl is ?” 

The banker was given what was known as the 
parlor bedroom, on the ground floor, and I heard 
Adah taking the little girl to her room. 

Miss Warren did not glance at my window on her 
return. “ She would have been happy enough had 
I remained here and sighed like a furnace,” I mut- 
tered grimly. ” Well, idiot ! why shouldn’t she 
be ?” 

She had evidently lingered to say something to 
Mrs. Yocomb, but I soon heard her light step pass 
up to her room. 

“Now’s my chance,” I thought. “Mrs. Yo- 
comb is preparing for supper, and all the rest are 
out of the way,” and I slipped down the stairs with 
noiseless and rather unsteady tread. Excitement, 
however, lent me a transient strength, and I felt as 
if the presence of the banker would give me sinews 


AN IMPULSE. 


273 


of steel. I entered the parlor unobserved, and tak- 
ing my old seat, from which I had watched the ap- 
proach of the memorable storm, I waited events. 

The first one to appear was the banker, rubbing 
his hands in a way that suggested a habit of com- 
placency and self-felicitation. He started slightly 
on seeing me, and then said graciously, 

“ Mr. Morton, I presume?” 

“You are correct, Mr. Hearn. I congratulate 
you on your safe arrival* ” 

“ Thanks. I’ve traveled considerably, and have 
never met with an accident. Glad to see you able 
to be down, for from what I heard I feared you had 
not sufficiently recovered.” 

“I’m much better to-day, sir,” I replied briefly. 

“ Well, this air, these scenes ought to impart 
health and content. I’m greatly pleased already, 
and congratulate myself on finding so pleasant a 
place of summer sojourn. It will form a delightful 
contra-st to great hotels and jostling crowds.” 

I now saw Miss Warren, through the half-open 
door, talking to Mrs. Yocomb. They evidently 
thought the banker was conversing with Mr. Yocomb. 

Instead of youthful ardor and bubbling happi- 
ness, the girl’s face had a grave, sedate aspect that 
comported well with her coming dignities. Then 
she looked distressed. Was Mrs. Yocomb telling 
her of my profane and awful mood ? I lent an in- 
attentive ear to Mr. Hearn’s excellent reasons for 
satisfaction with his present abode, and in the 
depths of my soul I thought, “ If she’s worrying 
about me now, how good-hearted she is J” 


274 


A DAY OF FA TF 


“ I already foresee/* Mr. Hearn proceeded, in 
his full-orbed tones, “ that it will also be Just the 
place for my little girl — safe and quiet, with very 
nice people to associate with.” 

“Yes,” I said emphatically, “ they are nice peo- 
ple — the best I ever knew.” 

Miss Warren started violently, took a step toward 
the door, then paused, and Mrs. Yocomb entered 
first. 

“ Why, Richard Morton !” she exclaimed, 
“ what does thee mean by this imprudence T* 

“ I mean to eat a supper that will astonish you, ” 

I replied, laughing. 

“ But. I didn’t give thee leave to come down.” 

“ You said I could come to-morrow, so I haven’t 
disobeyed in spirit.” 

Miss Warren still stood in the hall, but seeing 
that I had recognized her, she came forward and 
gave me her hand as she said, 

^ “ No one is more glad than I that you are able 
to come down.” 

Her words were very quiet, but the pressure of 
her hand was so warm as to surprise me, and I also 
noted that what must have been a vivid color was 
fading from her usually pale face. I saw, too, that 
Mr. Hearn was watching us keenly. 

“ Oh, but you are shrewd !” I thought. “ I 
wish you had cause to suspect.” 

I re'tufhed her greeting with great apparent frank- 
ness and cordiality as I replied, “ Oh, I’m much 
better to-night, and as jolly as Mark Tapley.” 

“Well,” ejaculated Mrs. Yocomb, “thee has 


AN IMPULSE. 275 

stolen a march on us, but I'm afraid thee'll be the 
worse for it.' 

“Ah, Mrs. Yocomb,’’ I laughed, “ your captive 
has escaped. I’m going to meeting with you to- 
morrow.” 

“ No thee isn’t. I feel as if I ought to take thee 
right back to thy room.” 

“ Mr. Yocomb,” I cried to the old gentleman, 
who now stood staring at me in the doorway, “ I 
appeal to you. Can’t I stay down to supper?” 

“ How’s this ! how’s this !” he exclaimed. 
“ VVe were going to give thee a grand ovation to- 
morrow, and mother had .planned a dinner that 
might content an alderman.” 

“Or a banker,” I thought, as I glanced at Mr. 
Hearn’s ample waistcoat ; but I leaned back in my 
chair and laughed heartily as I said, 

“You cannot get me back to my room, Mrs. Yo- 
comb, now that I know I’ve escaped an ovation. 
I’d rather have a toothache.” 

“ But does thee really feel strong enough ?” 

“ Oh, yes ; I never felt better in my life.” 

“ I don’t know what to make of thee,” she said, 
with a puzzled look. 

“ No,” I replied ; “ you little knew what a case 
I was when you took me in hand.” 

“ I’ll stand up for thee. Friend Morton. Thee 
shall stay down to supper, and have what thee 
pleases. ’ Thee may as well give in, mother ; he’s 
out from under thy thumb.” 

“ My dear sir, you talk as if you were out too. 
I fear our mutiny may go too far. To-morrow is 


2^6 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


Sunday, Mrs. Yocomb, and I’ll be as good as I 
know how all day, which, after all, is not promising 
much. ” 

“ It must be very delightful to you to have se- 
cured such good friends,” began Mr. Hearn, who 
perhaps felt that he had stood too long in the back- 
ground. ” I congratulate you. At the same time, 
Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb,” with a courtly bend toward 
them, ” I do not wonder at your feelings, for Emily 
has told me that Mr. Morton behaved very hand- 
somely during that occasion of peril.” 

” Did I ?” I remarked, with a wry face. ” I was 
under the impression that I looked very ridiculous,” 
and I turned a quick, mischievous glance toward 
Miss Warren, who seemed well content to remain 
in the background. 

“Yes,” she said, laughing, “ your appearance did 
not comport with your deeds.” 

“ I’m not so sure about that,” I replied dryly. 
“ At any rate, I much prefer the present to remi- 
niscences.” 

“ I trust that you will permit me, as one of the 
most interested parties, to thank you also,” began 
Mr. Hearn impressively. 

“ No, indeed, sir,” I exclaimed, a little brusquely. 
“ Thanks do not agree with my constitution at all. ’ ’ 

“ Hurrah I” cried Reuben, looking in at the par- 
lor window. 

“ Yes, here’s the man to thank,” I resumed. 
“ Even after being struck by lightning he was equal 
to the emergency.” 

“No thee don’t, Richard,” laughed Reuben. 


AN IMPULSE. 


277 


*' Thee needn’t think thee’s going to palm that 
thing off on me. We’ve all come to our senses 
now.” 

For some reason Miss Warren laughed heartily, 
and then said to me, “You look so well and genial 
to-night that I do begin to think it was some othef 
tramp. ” 

“ I fear I’m the same old tramp ; for, as Reuben 
says, we have all come to our senses.” 

“ Thee didn’t lose thy senses, Richard, till after 
thee was sick. ’Twas mighty lucky thee wasn’t 
struck,” explained the matter-of-fact Reuben. 

“ You must permit me to echo the young lad’s 
sentiment,” said Mr. Hearn feelingly. “ It was 
really a providence that you escaped, and kept such 
a cool, clear head.” 

I fear I made another very wry face as I looked 
out of the window. 

Reuben evidently had not liked the term “ young 
lad,” but as he saw my expression he burst out 
laughing as he said, 

“What’s the matter, Richard? I guess thee 
thinks thee had the worst of it, after all.” 

“ So thee has,” broke out Mr. Yocomb. “ Thee 
didn’t know what an awful scrape I was getting 
thee into when I brought thee home from meeting. 
Never was a stranger so taken in before. I don’t 
believe thee’ll ever go to Friends’ meeting again,” 
and the old gentleman laughed heartily, but tears 
stood in his eyes. 

In spite of myself my color was rising, and I saw 
that Mrs. Yocomb and Miss Warren looked un- 


278 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


comfortably conscious of what must be in my mind 
but I joined in his laugh as I replied, 

“You are mistaken. Had I a prophet’s eye, I 
would have come home with you. The kindness 
received in this home has repaid me a thousand 
times. With a sick bear on their hands, Mrs. 
Yocomb and Miss Adah were in a worse scrape 
than I.” 

“ Well, thee hasn’t growled as much as I expect- 
ed,’’ laughed Mrs. Yocomb ; “ and now thee’s a 
very amiable bear indeed, and shall have thy supper 
at once,’’ and she turned to depart, smiling to her- 
self, but met in the doorway Adah and the little 
stranger — a girl of about the same age as Zillah, 
with large, vivid black eyes, and long dark hair. 
Zillah was following her timidly, with a face full of 
intense interest in her new companion ; but the 
moment she saw me she ran and sprang into my 
arms, and, forgetful of all others, cried gladly, 

“ Oh, I’m so glad — I’m so glad thee’s well !’’ 

The impulse must have been strong to make so 
shy a child forget the presence of strangers. 

I whispered in her ear, “ I told you that your 
kiss would make me well.’’ 

“ Yes ; but thee said Emily Warren’s roses too,’’ 
protested the little girl. 

“ Did I ?’’ I replied, laughing, “ Well, there’s 
no escaping the truth in this house.’’ 

I dared not look at Miss Warren, but saw that 
Mr. Hearn’s eyes were on her. 

“ Confound him !’’ I thought. “ Can he be fool 
enough to be jealous ?’’ 


AA^ IMPULSE. 


279 


Adah still stood hesitatingly in the doorway, as if 
she dared not trust herself to enter. I put Zillah 
down, and crossing the room in a free, frank man- 
ner, I took her hand cordially as I said. 

Miss Adah, I must thank you next to Mrs. Yo- 
comb that I am able to be down this evening, and 
that I am getting well so fast. You have been the 
best of nurses, and just as kind and considerate as a 
sister. I’m going to have the honor of taking you 
out to supper. ’ ’ I placed her hand on my arm, and \ 
its thrill and tremble touched my very soul. In"^ 
my thoughts I said, It’s all a wretched muddle, 
and, as the banker said, mysterious enough to be 
a providence;” but at that moment the ways of 
Providence seemed very bright to the young girl, 
and she saw Mr. Hearn escorting Miss Warren with 
undisguised complacency. 

As the latter took her seat I ventured to look 
at her, and if ever a woman’s eyes were eloquent 
with warm, approving friendliness, hers were. I 
seemingly had done the very thing she would have 
wished me to do. As we bowed our heads in grace, 

I was graceless enough to growl, under my breath, ^ 
/“ My attentions to Adah are evidently very satis- ■ 
factory. Can she imagine for a moment — does she 
take me for a weather-vane ?” 

When grace was over, I glanced toward her again,, 
a trifle indignantly ; but her face now was quiet and 
pale, and I was compelled to believe that for the 
rest of the evening she avoided my eyes and all 
references to the past. 

” Why, mother !” exclaimed Mr. Yocomb from 




2^0 


A DA V OF FA TE. 


the head of the table, “ thy cheeks are as red — 
why, thee looks like a young girl.” 

” Thee knows I’m very much pleased to-night,” 
she said. ” Does thee remember, Richard, when 
thee first sat down to supper with us ?” 

” Indeed I do. Never shall I forget my trepida- 
tion lest Mr. Yocomb should discover whom, in his 
unsuspecting hospitality, he was harboring.” 

“Well, I’ve discovered,” laughed the old gen- 
tleman. ” Good is always coming out of Naza- 
reth.” 

” It seems to me' that we’ve met before,” re^ 
marked Mr. Hearn graciously and reflectively. 

“Yes, sir,” I explained. “ As a reporter I called 
on you once or twice for information.” 

“ Ah, now it comes back to me. Yes, yes, I re- 
member ; and I also remember that you did not ex- 
tract the information, as if it had been a tooth. 
Your manner was not that of a professional inter- 
viewer. You must meet with disagreeable experi^ 
ences in your calling.” 

“Yes, sir ; but perhaps that is true of all call- 
ings.” 

“ Yes, no doubt, no doubt ; but it has seemed to 
me that a reporter’s lot must frequently bring him 
in contact with much that is disagreeable.” 

“ Mr. Morton is not a reporter,” said Adah, a 
trifle indignantly ; ' ‘ he’s the editor of a first-class 
paper. ’ ’ 

“ Indeed !” exclaimed Mr. Hearn, growing much 
more benign ; “why, Emily, you did not tell me 
that.” 


AN IMPULSE. 


281 


No, I only spoke of Mr. Morton as a gentle- 
man.” 

” I imagine that Miss Warren thinks that I have 
mistaken my calling, and that I ought to be a gar- 
dener. ” 

” That’s an odd impression. Mr. Yocomb 
would not even trust you to weed,” she retorted 
quickly. 

” I have a fellow feeling for weeds ; they grow 
so easily and naturally. But I must correct your 
impressions. Miss Adah. I’m not the dignitary you 
imagine — only an editor, and an obscure night one 
at that. ” 

” Your night work on one occasion bears the light 
very well. I hope it may be the earnest of the fu- 
ture,” said Mr. Hearn impressively. 

I felt that he had a covert meaning, for he had 
glanced more than once at Miss Warren when I 
spoke, and I imagined him a little anxious as to our 
mutual impressions. 

” I feel it my duty to set you right also, Mr. 
Hearn,” I replied, with quiet emphasis, for I wished 
to end all further reference to that occasion. 
“Through Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb’s kindness. I 
happened to be an inmate of the farm-house that 
night. I merely did what any man would have 
done, and could have done just as well. My action 
involved no personal peril, and no hardship worth 
naming. My illness resulted from my own folly. 
I’d been overworking or overworked, as so many in 
my calling are. Conscious that I am not in the 
least heroic, I do not wish to be imagined a hero. 


282 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


Mrs. Yocomb knows what a bear I’ve been, ” i cuii 
eluded, with a humorous nod toward her. 

“Yes, I know, Richard,” she said, quietly smil- 
ing. 

“ After this statement in prose, Mr. Hearn, you 
will not be led to expect more from me than from 
any ordinary mortal.” 

“ Indeed, sir, I like your modesty, your self- 
depreciation.” 

“ I beg your pardon,” I interrupted a little de- 
cisively ; “I hope you do not think my words had 
any leaning toward affectation. I wished to state 
the actual truth. My friends here have become too 
kind and partial to give a correct impression.” 

Mr. Hearn waved his hand very benignly, and his 
- smile was graciousness itself as he said, 

“ I think I understand you, sir, and respect your 
sincerity. I’ve been led to believe that you cherish 
a high and scrupulous sense of honor, and that trait 
counts with me far more than all others.” 

I understood him well. “ Oh, you are shrewd !” 
I thought ; “ but I’d like to know what obligations 
I’m under to you ?” I merely bowed a trifle coldly 
to this tribute and suggestive statement, and turned 
the conversation. As I swept my eyes around the 
table a little later, I thought Miss Warren looked 
paler than usual. 

“ Does she understand his precautionary meas- 
ures ?” I thought. He’d better beware — she would 
not endure distrust.” 


CHAPTER IX. 


A WRETCHED FAILURE. 

T he excitement that had sustained me was pass- 
ing away, and I felt myself growing miserably 
weak and depressed. The remainder of the meal 
was a desperate battle, in which I think I succeeded 
fairly. I talked that it might not be noticed that I 
was eating very little ; joked with Mr. Yocomb till 
the old gentleman was ruddy and tremulous with 
laughter, and made Reuben happy by applauding 
one of Dapple’s exploits, the history of which was 
easily drawn from him. 

I spoke often to both Adah and Zillah, and tried 
to be as frank and unconscious in one case as the 
other. I even made the acquaintance of Mr. 
Hearn’s little girl — indeed, her father formally pre- 
sented her to me as his daughter Adela. I knew 
nothing of his domestic history, and gained no clew 
as to the length of the widowhood which he now 
proposed to end as speedily as possible. 

I was amused by his not infrequent glances at 
Adah. He evidently had a keen eye for beauty as 
for every other good thing of this world, and he was 
not so desperately enamored but that he could 
stealthily and critically compare the diverse charms 
of the two girls, and I imagined I saw a slight 
accession to his complacency as his judgment gave 
its verdict for the one toward whom he manifested 


284 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


proprietorship by a manner that was courtly^ defer- 
ential, but quite pronounced. A stranger present 
could never have doubted their relationship. 

A brief discussion arose as to taste, in which Mr. 
Hearn assumed the ground that nothing could take 
the place of much observation and comparison, by 
means of which effects in color could be accurately 
learned and valued. In reply I said, 

“ Theories and facts do not always harmonize 
any more than colors. Miss Adah’s youth and rural 
life have not given her much opportunity for obser- 
vation and comparison, and yet few ladies on your 
Avenue have truer eyes for harmony in color than 
she.” 

” Mr. Morton being the judge,” said the banker, 
with a profound and smiling bow. ” Permit me to 
add that Miss Adah has at this moment only to 
glance in a mirror to obtain an idea of perfect har- 
mony in color,” and his eyes lingered admiringly on 
her face. 

I was worsted in this encounter, and I saw the 
old gleam of mirthfulness in Miss Warren’s eyes. 
How well 1 remembered when I first saw that eva- 
nescent illumination — the quick flash of a bright, 
genial spirit. She delights in her lover’s keen 
thrusts,” was now my thought, ” and is pleased to 
think I’m no match for him. She should remember 
that it’s a poor time for a man to tilt when he can 
scarcely sit erect.” But Adah’s pleasure was unal- 
loyed. She had received two decided compliments, 
and she found herself associated with me in the 
new-corner’s rnind, and by my own actions. 


A WRETCHED FAILURE. 


285 

“I frankly admit/’ I said, “that I'm a partial 
judge, and perhaps a very incompetent one.” Then 
I was stupid enough to add, “ But newspaper men 
are prone to have opinions. Mr. Yocomb was so 
sarcastic as to say that there was nothing under 
heaven that an editor did not know.” 

“ Oh, if you judge by her father's authority, you 
are on safe ground, and I yield at once.” 

He had now gone too far, and I flushed angrily 
as we rose from the table. I saw, too, that Mr. 
and Mrs. Yocomb did not like it either, and 
that Adah was blushing painfully. It was one of 
those attempted witticisms that must be simply 
ignored. 

My anxiety now was to get back to my room as 
speedily as possible. Again I had overrated my- 
self. The excitement of the effort was gone, and 
my heart was like lead, f I, too, would no longer 
permit my eyes to rest even a moment on one whose 
ever-present image was only too vivid in spite of 
my constant effort to think of something else ; for 
so complete was my enthrallment that it was in- 
tolerable pain to see her the object of another man's 
preferred attentions. I knew it was all right ; I was 
not jealous in the ordinary sense of the word ; I 
merely found myself unable longer, in my weak 
condition, to endure in her presence the conse- 
quences of my fatal blunder. Therefore I saw with 
pleasure that I might in a few moments have a 
chance to slip back to my refuge as quietly as I had 
left it. Mrs. Yocomb was summoned to the 
kitchen : a farip laborer was inquiring for her hus- 


286 


A BA V OF FA TE. 


band, and he and Reuben went out toward the 
barn. Adah would have lingered, but the two chil- 
dren pulled her away to the swing. 

Mr. Hearn and Miss Warren stood by me a mo- 
ment or two as I sat on the lounge in the hall, and 
then the former said, Emily, this is just the time 
for a twilight walk. Come, and show me the old 
garden and he took her away, with an air of pro- 
prietorship at which I sickened, to that place con- 
secrated by my first conscious vision of the woman 
that I hoped would be my fair Eve. 

The moment they were off the porch I tottered 
to the stairway, and managed to reach the turn of 
the landing, and there my strength failed, and I 
held on to the railing for support, feeling ill and 
faint. A light step came quickly through the hall 
and up the stairway. 

“ Why, Mr. Morton !” exclaimed Miss Warren, 
“ you are not going up so soon ?” 

“Yes, thank you,” I managed to say cheerily. 
“ Invalids must be prudent. Tm only resting on 
the landing a little.” 

“ I found it rather cool and damp, and so came 
back for a shawl,” she explained, and passed on up 
to her room, for she seemed a little embarrassed at 
meeting me on the stairs. 

In her absence I made a desperate effort to go 
on, but found that I would fall. I must wait till she 
returned, and then crawl up the best I could. 

“ You see Tm prudence personified,” I laughed, 
as she came back. “ I’m taking it so leisurely that 
I have even sat down about it,” 


A WRETCHED FAILURE. 287 

“ Are you not overtaxing yourself ?” she asked 
gently. “ I fear — 

“ Oh, no, indeed — will sleep all the better for a 
change. Mr. Hearn is waiting for you, and the 
twilight isn’t. Don’t worry ; I’ll surpass Samson 
in a week.” 

She looked at me keenly, and hesitatingly passed 
down the dusky stairway. Then I turned and tried 
to crawl on, eager to gain my room without reveal- 
ing my condition ; but when I reached the topmost 
stair it seemed that I could not go any farther if 
my life depended on it. With an irritable impreca- 
tion on my weakness, I sank down on the topmost 
step. 

” Mr. Morton,” said a low voice, “ why did you 
try to deceive me. You have gone far beyond your 
strength.” 

“You here — you of all others,” I broke out, in 
tones of exasperation. “ I meant that your first 
evening should be without a shadow, and have 
failed, as I now fail in everything. Call Reuben.” 

“ Let me help you ?” she pleaded, in the same 
hurried voice. 

“ No,” I replied harshly, and I leaned heavily 
against the wall. She held out her hand to aid me, 
but I would not take it. 

“ I’ve no right even to look at you — I who have 
been doubly enjoined to cherish such a ‘ scrupulous 
sense of honor.’ I’d better have died a thousand 
times. Call Reuben.” 

“ How can I leave you so ill and unhappy !” and 
she made a gesture of protest and distress whose 


288 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


strong effect was only intensified by the obscurity. 

“ I had hoped — you led me to think to-night — ” 

“ That I was a weather-vane. Thank you.” 

Steps were heard entering the hall. 

” Oh ! oh !” she exclaimed, in bitter protest. 

” Emily,” called the banker’s voice, ” are you not 
very long ?” 

I seized her hand to detain her, and said, in a fierce 
whisper, ” Never so humiliate me as to let him 
know. Go at once ; some one will find me. ” 

' “Your hand is like ice,’’ she breathed. 

I ignored her presence, leaned back, and closed 
my eyes. 

She paused a single instant longer, and then, with 
a firm, decisive bearing, turned and passed quietly 
down the stairway. 

” What in the world has kept you ?” Mr. Hearn 
asked, a trifle impatiently. 

” Can you tell me where Reuben is ?” she an- 
swered, in a clear, firm voice, that she knew I must 
hear. 

” What does thee want, Emily ?” cried Reuben 
from the piazza. 

” Mr. Morton wishes to see you,” she replied, in 
the same tone that she would have used had my 
name been Mrs. Yocomb’s, and then she passed out 
with her afifianced. 

Reuben almost ran over me as he came bounding 
up the stairs. 

” Hold on, old fellow,” I whispered, ana I pulled 
him down beside me. ” Can you keep a secret ? 
I’m played put — Reuben — to speak elegantly — and^ 


A IVRETC/^ED FAILURE. 


289 


j don t wish a soul to know it. I’m sitting very — com- 
fortably on this step — you see — that’s the way it 
looks — but I’m stuck — hard aground — you’ll have 
to tow me off. But not a word, remember. Lift 
me up — let me get my arm around your neck — 
there. Lucky I’m not heavy — slow and easy now 
— that’s it. Ah, thank the Lord ! I’m in my refuge 
again. I felt like a scotched snake that couldn’t 
wriggle back to its hole. Hand me that brandy 
there — like a good fellow. Now I won’t keep you 
— any longer. If you care — for me — never speak of 
this.” 

” Please let me tell mother ?” 

” No, indeed.” 

” But doesn’t Emily Warren know ?” 

” She knows I wanted to see you.” 

” Please let me do something or get thee some- 
thing.” 

” No ; just leave me to myself a little while, and 
I’ll be all right Go at once, that’s a good fellow.” 

” Oh, Richard, thee shouldn’t have come down. 
Thee looks so pale and sick that I’m afraid thee’ll 
die yet ; if thee does, thee’ll break all our hearts,” 
and the warm-hearted boy burst out crying, and ran 
and locked himself in his room. 

I was not left alone very long, for Mrs. Yocomb 
soon entered, saying, 

I’m glad thee’s so prudent, and has returned to 
thy room. Thee acted very generously to-night, 
and 1 appreciate it. I had no idea thee could be so 
strong and carry it out so well. Emily was greatly 
surprised, but she enjoyed her first evening far 


290 


A DA ^ OF FA TE. 


more than she otherwise could have done, for she*s 
one of the most kind-hearted, sensitive girls I ever 
knew. I do believe it would have killed her if thee 
hadn’t got well. But thee looks kind of weak and 
faint, as far as I can see. Let me light the lamp for 
thee.” 

” No, Mrs. Yocomb, I like the dusk best. The 
light draws moths. They will come, you know, the 
stupid things, though certain to be scorched. Ome 
in the room at a time is enough. Don’t worry — 
I’m a little tired — that’s all. Sleep is all I need.” 

” Is thee sure ?” 

*‘Yes, indeed; don’t trouble about me. You 
won’t know me in a few days.” 

” Thee was a brave, generous man to-night, 
Richard. I understood the effort thee was making, 
and I think Emily did. A good conscience ought 
to make thee sleep well.” 

I laughed bitterly as I said, ” My conscience 
is gutta-percha to-night, through and through, but 
please say no more, or I’ll have to shock you again. 
I’ll be in a better mood to-morrow.” 

” Well, good-night. Thee’ll excuse a house- 
keeper on Seventh-day evening. If thee wants any- 
thing, ring thy bell.” 

She came and stroked my brow gently for a mo 
ment, and then breathed softly, 

” God bless thee, Richard. May the Sabbath’s 
peace quiet thy heart to-morrow.” 


CHAPTER X. 


IN THE DEPTHS. 

1 AWOKE late Sunday morning and found Reu- 
ben watching beside me. 

“ Thee’s better, isn’t thee ?” he asked eagerly. 

“ Well, I ought to be. You’re a good fellow, 
Reuben. What time is it ? — nearly .night again, I 
hope.” 

” Oh, no, it’s only about eleven ; they’re all 
gone to meeting. I made ’em leave you in my care. 
Adah would have stayed, but mother told her she 
was to go. Emily Warren’s grandfather wanted to 
go spooning off in the woods, but she made him go 
to meeting too. I don’t see how she ever came 
to like him, with his grand airs.” 

” She has good reasons, rest assured.” 

” Well, he ain’t the kind of a man I’d go for if I 
was a girl.” 

” Miss Warren is not the girl to go for any man,\ 
Reuben. He had to seek her long and patiently.) 
But that’s their affair — we have nothing to do with 
it.” 

” I thought thee was taken with her at first,” 
said Reuben innocently. 

” I do admire Miss Warren very much — now as 
much as ever. I admire a great many ladies, espe- 
cially your mother. I never knew a truer, kinder 
lady.” 

” And if it had not been for thee, Richard, she 


292 A DAY OF FA TE. 

might have been burned up,” and tears came into 
his eyes. 

” Oh, no, Reuben. You could have got them all 
out easily enough.” 

” I fear I would have lost my head.” 

“No, you wouldn’t ; you are not of that kind. 
Please say no more about that affair. I’ve heard 
too much of it.” 

” Does thee think thee’ll Le able to come down 
to dinner ? Mother and father and all of us will 
be awfully disappointed if thee isn’t.” 

” Yes, I’ll come down if you’ll stand by me, and 
help me back w^hen I give you the wink. I won’t 
go down till dinner’s ready ; after it’s over you can 
help me out under some tree. I’m just wild to get 
out of doors.” 

I had a consuming desire to retrieve myself, and 
prove that I was not weakness personified, and I 
passed through the ordeal of dinner much better 
than I expected. Mr. Hearn was benignness itself, 
but I saw that he was very observant. The 
shrewd Wall Street man had the eye of an eagle 
when his interests were concerned, and he very 
naturally surmised that no one could have seen so 
much of Miss Warren as I had, and still remain en- 
tirely indifferent ; besides, he may have detected 
something in mxy manner or imagined that the pe- 
culiar events of the past few weeks had made us 
better acquainted than he cared to have us. 

Miss Warren’s greeting was cordial, but her 
manner toward me was so quiet and natural that he 
had no cause for complaint, and I felt that I had 


tN THE DEPTHS. 295 

rather be drawn asunder by wild horses than give 
liim a clew to my feelings. I took a seat next to 
Mr. Yocomb, and we chatted quietly most of the 
time. The old gentleman was greatly pleased 
about something, and it soon came out that Mr. 
Hearn had promised him five hundred dollars to 
put a new roof on the meeting-house and make 
other improvements. I drew all the facts readily 
from the zealous Friend, together with quite a his- 
tory of the old meeting-house, for I proposed to 
make a complimentary item of the matter in my 
paper, well knowing how grateful such incense was 
to the banker’s soul. Mr. Hearn, who sat nearest 
to us, may have heard my questions and divined 
my purpose, for he was peculiarly gracious. 

I was not able to do very much justice to Mrs, 
Yocomb’s grand dinner, but was unstinted in my 
praise. The banker made amends for my inability, 
and declared he had never enjoyed such a repast 
even at Delmonico’s. I thought Miss Warren’s ap- 
petite flagged a little, but to the utmost extent of 
my power I kept my eyes and thoughts from hef; 

After dinner Reuben helped me to a breezy knoll 
behind the dwelling, and spreading some robes from 
the carriage-house under a wide-branching tree, left 
me, at my request, to myself. The banker now had 
his way, and carried Miss Warren off to a distant 
grove. I would not look at them as they went 
down the lane together, but shut my eyes and 
tried to breathe in life and health. 

Adah read to the two little girls for some time, 
and then came hesitatingly toward me. I feigned 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


294 

sleepj^for I was too weak and miserable to treat the 
girl as she deserved. She stood irresolutely a mo- 
ment or two, and then slowly and lingeringly re- 
turned to the house. 

My feigning soon became reality, and when I 
awoke Reuben was sitting beside me, and I found 
had covered me well to guard against the dampness 
of the declining day. 

“ You are always on hand when I need you most,” 

I said smilingly. I think I will go back to my 
room now, while able to make a respectable retreat.” 

I saw Mr. Hearn and Miss Warren entering the 
house, and thought that they had had a long after- 
noon together, but that time no doubt had passed 
more quickly with them than with me, even though 
I had slept for hours. When reaching the parlor 
door I saw Miss Warren at the piano ; she turned 
so quickly as almost to give me the impression that 
she was waiting to intercept me. 

” Would you not like to hear your favorite noc^ 
turne again ?” she asked, with a friendly smile. 

I hesitated, and half entered the parlor. Her face 
seemed to light up with pleasure at my compliance. 
How divine she appeared in the quaint, simple 
room ! I felt that I would gladly give the best 
years of my life for the right to sit there and feast . 
my eyes on a grace and beauty that to me were in-^ 
describable and irresistible ; but the heavy tread jiL_ 
the banker in the adjoining room reminded me that 
I had no right — that to see her and to listen would 
soon become unendurable pain. I had twice been 
taught my weaknessi. 


IN THE DEPTHS. 


29s 


Thank you,” I said, with a short, dry laugh ; 

I’m sorely tempted, but it’s time I learned that 
for me discretion is certainly the better part of 
valor,” and I turned away, but not too soon to see 
that her face grew sad and wistful. 

” Heaven bless her kind heart !” I murmured as 
I wearily climbed the stairs. 

Adah brought me up my supper long before the 
others were through, and I felt a faint remorse that 
I had feigned sleep in the afternoon, even though 
my motive had been consideration for her as truly 
as for myself. 

‘‘ Miss Adah !” I exclaimed, “ you are growing 
much too unselfish. Why didn’t you get your sup- 
per first ?” 

” I’ve had all I wish. I’m not hungry to-night.” 

” Truly, you look as if you lived on roses ; 
but you can’t thrive long on such unsubstantial 
diet. It was real good of you to read to those 
children so long. If I had been an artist, I would 
have made a sketch of you three. You and that 
little dark-eyed girl make a lovely contrast.” 

‘‘I like her,” she said simply; “I feel as if I 
wanted some one to pet. Can’t I read to you 
while you eat your supper ?” 

“I’d rather have you talk to me : what do you 
think of the little girl’s father 

” I haven’t thought much about him.” 

” I wish you could see his house in New York ; 
it’s a superb one, and on your favorite Fifth 
Avenue.” 

“ Yes, I know,” she replied absently. 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


296 

/ “ I should think you would envy Miss War-- 
ren.” 

“ I don’t/’ she said emphatically ; “ the man is 
more than the house.” 

“ I don’t think you would have said that a month 
ago.” 

“ I fear not. I fear thee didn’t like me that Sun- 
day afternoon when I was so self-satisfied. I’ve 
thought it over.” 

“ Indeed, Miss Adah, I would gladly be struck 
by lightning myself if it would change me for the 
better as greatly as you are changed.” 

“ It wasn’t the lightning,” she said, blushing and 
slowly shaking her head. “ I’ve been thinking.” 

“Ah,” I laughed, “you are shrewd. If women 
only knew it, there’s nothing that gives beauty 
like thought, and it’s a charm that increases every 
year. Well,” I continued, with the utmost frank- 
ness, “ I do like you now, and what is more, I 
honestly respect you. When you come to New 
York again, I am going to ask your mother to trust 
me as if I were your older brother, and I’ll take you 
to see and hear much that I’m sure you’ll en- 

• y y 

joy. 

“ Oh, that will be splendid !” she cried gladly. 

“ I know mother will let me go with thee, because 
— because — well, she says thee is a gentleman.” 

“ Do you know. Miss Adah, I’d rather have your 
mother say that than have all Mr. Hearn’s thou- 
sands. But your mother judges me leniently. To” 
tell you the honest truth, I’ve come lately to have 
a very poor opinion of myself. I feel that I would 


IN THE DEPTHS. 297 

have been much better man if, in past years, I had 
seen more of such people as dwell in this house.” 

“ Thee remembers what father said to thee,” she 
replied shyly, with downcast eyes ; “ this is thy 
home hereafter.” 

“She looks now,” I thought, “as if she might 
fulfil the dream I wove about her on that memora- 
ble day when I first saw her in the meeting-house. 
How perverse my fate has been, giving me that for 
which I might well thank God on my knees, and 
yet which my heart refuses, and withholding that 
which will impoverish my whole life. Why must 
the heart be so imperious and self-willed in these 
matters ? An elderly gentlemen would say, Every- 
tbThg is just right as it is. It would be the absurd- 
ity of folly for Miss Warren to give up her magnifi- 
cent prospects because of your sudden and sickly 
sentiment ; and what more could you ask or wish 
than this beautiful girl, whose womanhood has 
awakened and developed under your very eyes, 
almost as unconsciously as if a rose-bud had opened 
and shown you its heart } Indeed, but a brief time 
since I would have berated any friend of mine who 
would not take the sensible course which would 
make all happy. If I could but become ‘ sane and 
reasonable,’ as Miss Warren would say, how she 
would beam upon me, and, the thought of my dis- 
appointment and woe-begone aspect banished, how 
serenely she would go toward her bright future ! 
And yet in taking this sane and sensible course I 
would be false to my very soul — false to this simple, 
true-hearted girl, to whom I could give but a cold, 


298 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


hollow pretence in return for honest love. I would 
become an arrant hypocrite, devoid of honor and 
self-respect. ” 

“ Heaven bless you, Adah !” I murmured. “ I 
love you too well for all your kindness and goodness 
to pretend to love you so ill.” 

Thoughts like these passed through my mind as 
I thanked her for all that she had done for me, and 
told her of such phases of New York life as I 
thought would interest her. She listened with so 
intent and childlike an expression on her face that 
I could scarcely realize that I was talking to one in 
whose bosom beat the heart of a woman. I felt 
rather as if I were telling Zillah a fairy story. 

Still I had faith in her intuition, and believed that 
after I was gone she would recognize and accept 
the frank, brotherly regard that I now cherished 
toward her. 

Reuben was not very long in joining us, and boy 
like did not note that his sister evidently wished 
him far away. My greeting was so cordial that she 
noted with a sigh that I did not regard him as the 
unwelcome third party. Then Mr. Yocomb and 
the little girls came to the door and asked if there 
was room for a crowd. Soon after Mrs. Yocomb 
appeared, with her comely face ruddy from exercise. 

“ I’ve hurried all I could,” she said, “but thee 
knows how it is with housekeepers ; and yet how 
should thee know, living all thy life alone in dens, 
as thee said? Why, thee’s having a reception.” 

“ I fear your guests down-stairs will feel neglected, 
Mrs. Yocomb.” 


IN THE DEPTHS. 


. 299 


“ Don’t thee worry about that, Richard,” Mr. 
Yocomb said, laughing. “ I’m not so old, mother, 
but I can remember when we could get through an 
evening together without help, from anybody. I 
reckon we could do so again — eh ? mother ? Ha, 
ha, ha ! so thee isn’t too old to blush yet ? How’s 
that, Richard, for a young girl of sixty. Don’t 
thee worry about Emily Warren. I fear that any 
one of us would make a large crowd in the old 
parlor. ” 

This was sorry comfort, and I fear that my laugh 
was anything but honest, while Mrs. Yocomb stared 
out of the window, at which she sat fanning her- 
self, with a fixedness that I well understood. 

But they were all so kind and hearty that I could 
no more give way to dejection than to chill and 
cheerlessness before a genial wood fire. They seemed 
in truth to have taken me into the family. Rarely 
was I now addressed formally as Richard Morton. 
It was simply “ Richard,” spoken with the unpre- 
meditated friendliness characteristic of family inter- 
course. Heathen though I was, I thanked God that 
he had brought me among these true-hearted peo- 
ple ; “ and may He blast me,” I muttered, “ if I 
ever relapse into the old sneering cynicism that I 
once affected. Let me at least leave that vice to 
half-fledged young men and to bad old men.” 

One thing puzzled me. Miss Warren remained 
at her piano, and it struck me as a little odd that 
she did not find the music of her lover’s voice pref- 
erable, but I concluded that music was one of the 
strongest bonds of sympathy between them, and 


300 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


one of the means by which he had won her affec- 
tion. ■ Sometimes, as her voice rose clear and sweet 
to my open windows, I answered remarks addressed 
to me with an inaptness that only Mrs. Yocomb un- 
derstood^ 

Before very long, that considerate lady looked 
into my face a moment, and then said decisively, 

“ Richard, thee is getting tired. We must all bid 
thee good-night at once.’’ 

Adah looked almost resentfully at her mother, 
and lingered a little behind the others. As they 
passed out, she stepped hastily back, and unclasp- 
ing a rose-bud from her breastpin laid it on the 
table beside me. 

“ It was the last one I could find in the garden,” 
she said breathlessly, and with its color in her 
cheeks. Before I could speak she was gone. 

“ It shall be treated with reverence, like the 
feeling which led to the gift,” I murmured sadly. 
“ Heaven grant that it may be only the impulse of. 
a girlish fancy and I filled a little vase with water 
and placed the bud near the window, where the 
cool night air could blow upon it. 

Still Miss Warren remained at the piano. “ How 
singularly fond of music he is !” I thought. 

I darkened my room, and sat at the window that 
I might hear every note. The old garden, half hid- 
den by trees, looked cool and Eden-like in the light 
of the July moon, athwart whose silver hemisphere 
fleecy clouds were drifting like the traces of thought 
across a bright face. Motionless shadows stretched 
toward the east, from which the new day would 


IN THE DEPTHS. 301 

Come, but with a dreary sinking of heart I felt as if 
each coming day would bring a heavier burden. 

ButaTittle time passed before I recognized Cho- 
pin’s Nocturne, to which I had listened with kin- 
dling hope on the night of the storm. Was it my 
own mood, or did she play it with far more pathos and 
feeling than on that never-to-be-forgotten evening? 
Be that as it may, it evoked a fiercer storm of un- 
availing passion and regret in my mind. In bitter- 
ness of heart I groaned aloud and insulted God. 

“ It was a cruel and terrible thing,” I charged, 
“ to mock a creature with such a hope. Why was 
such power over me given to her when it was of 
no use ?” But I will say no more of that hour of 
weak human idolatry. It was a revelation to me of 
the depths of despair and wretchedness into which 
one can sink' when unsustained by manly fortitude 
or Christian principle. It is in such desperate, ir- 
rational moods that undisciplined, ill-balanced souls 
thrust themselves out from the light of God’s sun- 
shine and the abundant possibilities of future good. 
I now look back on that hour with shame, and can- 
not excuse it even by the fact that I was enfeebled 
in mind as well as body by disease. We often 
never know ourselves or our need until after we 
have failed miserably under the stress of some 
strong temptation. ■ 

I was the worse the next day for my outburst of 
passion, and the wretched night that followed, and 
did not leave my room ; but I was grim and rigid 
in my purpose to retrieve myself. I appeared to be 
occupied with my mail and paper much of the 


302 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


day, and I wrote a very complimentary paragraph 
concerning the banker’s gift for the meeting- 
house. Mr. Hearn and Miss Warren were out 
riding much of the time. I saw them drive away\ 
with a lowering brow, and was not disarmed of my 
bitterness because I saw, through the half-closed j 
blinds, that the young girl stole a swift glance at my 
window. 

Adah was pleased as she saw how I was caring 
for her gift ; but I puzzled and disheartened her by 
my preoccupation arid taciturnity. She took the 
children off on a long ramble in the afternoon, and 
heaped coals of fire on my head by bringing me an 
exquisite collection of ferns. 

The next morning I went down to breakfast re- 
solving to take my place in the family, and make 
no more trouble during the brief remainder of my 
stay, for I proposed to go back to the city as 
soon as I had shown enough manhood to satisfy my 
pride, and had made Miss Warren believe that 
she could dismiss her solicitude on my account, and 
thus enjoy the happiness which apparently I had 
clouded. As I saw her pale face again I con- 
demned my weakness unsparingly, and with the 
whole force of my will endeavored to act and appear 
as both she and Mr. Hearn would naturally wish. 

“ Richard,” said Reuben, after breakfast, “ I’ve 
borrowed a low phaeton, and I’m going to take thee 
out with Dapple. He’ll put life in thee, never fear. 
He’d cure me if I were half dead.” 

He was right ; the swift motion through the pure 
air braced me greatly. 



‘ She rose ro Meet me, and said: 


Day oi Fate. 


Page 303. 




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i. -ii ^»rs?-? 




'*' '~ 7 ^ •* * 

^:t 




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! < I'lW .S 







IN THE DEPTHS. 


303 

When we returned, the banker sat on the piazza. 
Adah was near, with some light sewing, and the 
connoisseur was leisurely admiring her. Well he 
might, for in her neat morning gown she again 
seemed the embodiment of a June day. She rose 
to meet me, with a faint accession to her delicate 
color, and said, 

“ The ride has done thee good ; thee looks better 
than thee has any day yet.” 

“Reuben’s right,” I said, laughing; “Dapple 
would bring a fossil to life,” and the young fellow 
drove chuckling down toward the barn, making 
Dapple rear and prance in order to show off a little 
before Mr. Hearn. 

I sat down a few moments to rest. Miss Warren 
must have heard our voices ; but she went on with 
an intricate piece of music in which she was display- 
ing no mean skill. 1 did not think Mr. Hearn was 
as much interested in it as I was. His little girl 
came out of the house and climbed into Adah’s 
lap. She evidently liked being petted, and was not 
a little spoiled by it. The banker continued to ad- 
mire the picture they made with undisguised enjoy- 
ment, and I admitted that the most critical could 
have found no fault with the group. 

After exerting myself to seem exceedingly cheer- 
ful, and laughing heartily at a well-worn jest of Mr. 
Hearn’s, I went to my room and rested till dinner, 
and I slept away the afternoon as on the previous 
day. 

My plan was now to get sufficiently strong to 
take my departure by the following Monday, and I 


304 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


was glad indeed that the tonic of out-of-dooi ail 
promised an escape from a position in which I must 
continually seem to be what I was not — a cheerful 
man in the flood tide of convalescence. Were it 
not that my kind friends at the farm-house would 
have been grievously hurt, I would have left at 
once. 

As I returned from my ride the next day, Mr. 
Hearn greeted me with a newspaper in his hand. 

“ Tm indebted to you,” he said, in his most gra- 
cious manner, “ for a very kindly mention here. 
So small a donation was not worth the importance 
you give it, but you have put the matter so happily 
and gracefully that it may lead other men of means 
to do likewise at the various places of their summer 
sojourn. You editors are able to wield a great deal 
of influence.” 

I bowed, and said I was glad the paragraph had 
been worded in a way not disagreeable to him. 

“ Oh, it was good taste itself, I assure you, sir. It 
seemed the natural expression of your interest in 
that which interests your good friends here.” 

When I came down to dinner I saw that there was 
an unwonted fire in Miss Warren's eyes and un- 
usual color in her cheeks. Moreover, I imagined 
that her replies to the few remarks that I addressed 
to her were brief and constrained. “ She is no dis- 
sembler, ’ ’ I thought ; “ something has gone wrong. ’ ’ 

After dinner I went to my room for a book, and 
as I came out I met her in the hall. 

“ Mr. Morton,” she said, with characteristic di- 
rectness, “ if you had given a sum toward a good 


IN THE DEPTHS, 


305 

obj<ict in a quiet country place, would you have 
been pleased to see the fact paraded before those 
having no natural interest in the matter?” 

” I have never had the power to be munificent, 
Miss Warren,” I replied, with some embarrass- 
ment. 

” Please answer me,” she insisted, with a little 
impatient tap of the floor with her foot. 

” No,” I said bluntly. 

” Did you think it would be pleasing to me ?” 

“Pardon me,” I began, “that I did not suffi- 
ciently identify you with Mr. Hearn — ” « 

“ What !” she interrupted, blushing hotly, “ have 
I given any reason for not being identified with 
him ?” 

“ Not at all — not in one sense,” I said bitterly. 
“ Of course you are loyalty itself.” 

She turned away so abruptly as to surprise me a 
little. 

“You had no more right to think it would be 
pleasing to him than to me,” she resumed coldly. 

“ Miss Warren,” I said, after a moment, “ don't 
turn your back on me. I won’t quarrel with you, 
and I promise to do nothing of the kind again ;” 
and I spoke gravely and a little sadly. 

“ When you speak in that way you disarm me 
completely,” she said, with qne^^of the sudden illu- 
minations of her face that I so loved to see ; but I 
alsoTnoted that she had become very pale, and as my 
eyes met hers I thought I detected the old fright- 
ened look that I had seen when I had revealed my 
feelings too clearly after my illness, 


3o6 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ She fears that I may again speak as I ought 
not,” I thought ; and therefore I bowed quietly 
and passed on. Mr. Hearn was reading the paper 
on the piazza. I took a chair and went out under 
the elm, not far away. In a few moments Miss 
Warren joined her affianced, and sat down with 
some light work. 

” Emily,” I heard the banker say, as if the topic 
were uppermost in his mind, “I’d like to call your 
attention to this paragraph. I think our friend has 
written it with unusual good taste and grace, and 
IVe taken pains to tell him so.” 

I could not help hearing his words ; but I would 
not look up to see her humiliation, and turned a 
leaf, as if intent on my author. 

After a moment she said, with slight but clear 
emphasis, 

” I can’t agree with you.” 

A little later she went to the piano ; but I never 
heard her play so badly. A glance at Mr. Hearn 
revealed that his dignity and complacency had re- 
ceived a wound that he was inclined to resent. I 
strolled away muttering, 

‘‘ She has idealized him as she did Old Plod, but 
after all it’s not a very serious foible in a man of 
millions.” 

Before the day passed she found an opportunity to 
ask, 

“ Why did you not tell me that Mr. Hearn had 
spoken to you approvingly of that paragraph ?” 

“I would not willingly say anything to annoy 
you,” I replied quietly. 


IN THE DEPTHS. 


307 

“ Did you hear him call my attention to it ?’* 

I could not help it.” 

‘‘ You did not look up and triumph over me.” 

” That would have given me no pleasure.” 

“ I believe you,” she said, in a low tone ; but 
she devoted herself so assiduously to the stately 
banker that he became benignness itself. I also 
observed that Mr. Yocomb looked in vain for the 
paper after tea. ” I happened to destroy m” 
copy,” 1 said very innocently. 


CHAPTER XI. 


POOR ACTING. 


T he last week that I proposed to spend at the 
farm-house was passing quietly and unevent- 
fully away. I was gaining steadily though not 
rapidly in physical strength, but not in my power 
to endure my disappointment with equanimity, 
much less with resignation. In the delirium of my 
fever I kept constantly repeating the words — so 
Mrs. Yocomb told me — “ It’s all wrong.” Each 
successive day found these words on my lips again 
with increasing frequency. It seemed contrary to 
both right and reason that one should so completely 
enslave me, and then go away leaving me a bound 
and helpless captive. The conviction grew stronger 
that no such power ovetTne should have been given 
to her, if her influence was to end only in darken- 
ing my life and crippling my power to be a forceful 
man among men. I felt with instinctive certainty / 
that my burden would be too heavy to leave me 
the elastic spring and energy required by my exact- j 
ing profession. A hopeful, eager interest in life / 
and the world at large was the first necessity to 
success in my calling ; but already I found a leaden 
apathy creeping over me which even the powerful 
motives of pride, and my resolute purpose to seem 
cheerful that she might go on to her bright future 
unregretfully, were not sufliciently strong to banish. 


POOR ACTIJStG. 


309 


If I could not cope with this despondency in its 
inception, how could I face the future ? 

At first I had bitterly condemned my weakness ; 
but now I began to recognize the strength of m^ 
love, which, so far from being a mere sudden pas- 
sion, was the deep, abiding conviction that I had 
met the only woman I could marry — the woman 
whom my soul claimed as its mate, because she pos- 
sessed the power to help me and inspire me to tire- 
less effort toward better living and nobler achieve- 
ment. Her absolute truth would keep me true and 
anchored amid the swift, dark currents of the world 
to which I was exposed. I feared, with almost in- 
stinctive certainty, that I would become either a 
brooding, solitary man or else a very ambitious and 
reckless one, for I was conscious of no reserve 
strength which would enable me to go steadfastly on 
my wav under the calm and inexorable guidance of 
duty. 

Such was my faith in her that I had no hope 
whatever. If she loved and had given her troth to 
another man, it would not be in her nature to change, 
therefore my purpose had simplified itself to the 
effort to get through this one week at the farm- 
house in a manner that would enable me to carry 
away the respect of all its inmates, but especially 
the esteem of one to whom I feared I seemed a 
rash, ill-balanced man. So carefully had I avoided 
Miss Warren’s society, and yet so freely and frankly, 
apparently, had I spoken to her in the presence of 
her affianced, that his suspicions were evidently ban- 
ished, and he treated me with a gracious and pa- 


310 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


tronizing benignity. He saw no reason why he 
should not turn on me the light of his full and smil- 
ing countenance, which might be taken as an em- 
blem of prosperity ; and, in truth, I gave him no 
reason. So rigid was the constraint under which I 
kept myself that jealousy itself could not have found 
fault. 

With the exception of the two momentary inter- 
views recorded in the previous chapter, we had not 
spoken a syllable together, except in his presence, 
nor had I permitted my eyes to follow her with a 
wistful glance that he or she could intercept. Even 
Mrs. Yocomb appeared to think that I was recover- 
ing in more senses than one, and by frequent romps 
with the children, jests and chaffing with Mr. Yo- 
comb and Reuben, by a little frank and ostentatious 
gallantry to Adah, which no longer deceived even 
her simple mind, since I never sought her exclusive 
society as a lover would hav^e done, I confirmed the 
impression. 

And yet, in spite of all efforts and disguises, the 
truth will often flash out unexpectedly and irresisti- 
bly, making known all that we hoped to hide with 
the distinctness of the lightning, which revealed 
even the color of the roses on the night of the storm. 

The weather had become exceedingly warm, and 
Miss Warren’s somewhat portly suitor clung persis- 
tently to the wide, cool veranda. Adah sat there 
frequently also ; sometimes she read to the children 
fairy stories, of which Adela, Mr. Hearn’s little 
girl, had brought a great store, and she seemed to 
enjoy them quite as much as her eager-eyed lis- 


POOR ACIING. 


tenets , but more often she superintended their 
doll dress-making, over which there were the most 
animated discussions. The banker would look on 
with the utmost content, while he slowly waved his 
palm-leaf fan. Indeed the group was pretty enough 
to justify all the pleasure he manifested. 

The rustic piazza formed just the setting for 
Adah’s beauty, and her light summer costume well 
suggested her perfect and womanly form, while the 
companionship of the children proved that she was 
almost as guileless and childlike as they. The group 
was like a bubbling, sparkling spring, at which the 
rather advanced man of the world sipped with in- 
creasing pleasure. 

Miss Warren also gave much of her time to the 
children, and beguiled them into many simple les- 
sons at the piano. Zillah was true to her first love, 
but Adela gave to Adah a decided preference ; and 
when they entered on the intense excitement of 
making a new wardrobe for each of the large dolls 
that Mr. Hearn had brought, Adah had the advan- 
tage, for she was a genius in such matters, and 
quite as much interested as the little girls them- 
selves. 

In my desperate struggle with myself, I tried not 
even to see Miss Warren, for every glance appeared 
to rivet my chains, and yet I gained the impression 
tliat she was a little restless and distraite. She 
seemed much at her piano, not so much for Mr. 
Hearn’s sake as her own, and sometimes I was so 
impressed by the strong, passionate music that she 
evoked that I was compelled to hasten beyond its 


312 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


re^h. It meant too much to me. Oh, the strange 

idolatry of an absorbing affection 1 All that she 
said or did had for me an indescribable charm that 
both tortured and delighted. Still every hour in- 
creased my conviction that my only safety was in 
flight. 

My faithful ally, Reuben, still took me on long 
morning drives, and in the afternoon, with my mail 
and paper, I sought secluded nooks in a somewhat 
distant grove, which I reached by the shady lane, of 
which I had caught a glimpse with Miss Warren on 
the first evening of my arrival. But Friday after- 
noon was too hot for the walk thither. The banker 
had wilted and retired to his room. Adah and the 
children were out under a tree. The girl looked up 
wistfully and invitingly as I came out. 

“ I wish I were an artist. Miss Adah,” I cried. 
” You three make a lovely picture.” 

Remembering an arbor at the farther end of the 
garden, I turned my steps thither, passing rapidly 
by the spot where I had seen my Eve who was not 
mine. 

I had entered the arbor before I saw it was occu- 
pied, and was surprised by the vivid blush with 
which Miss Warren greeted me. 

” Pardon me,” I said, ” I did not know you were 
here,” and I was about to depart, with the best at- 
tempt at a smile that I could muster. 

She sprang up and asked, a little indignantly, 
‘‘ Am I infected with a pestilence that you so avoid 
me, Mr. Morton?” 

” Oh, no,” I replied, with a short, grim laugh j 


POOR ACTING. 313 

“if it were only a pestilence — I fear I disturbed 
your nap ; but you know I’m a born blunderer.” 

“You said we should be friends,” she began hesi- 
tatingly. 

“ Do you doubt it ?” I asked gravely. “ Do you 
doubt that I would hesitate at any sacrifice — ?” 

“ I don’t want sacrifices. I wish to see you 
happy, and your manner natural.” 

“I’m sure I’ve been cheerful during the past 
week.” 

“ No, you have only seemed cheerful ; and often 
I’ve seen you look as grim, hard, and stern as if you 
were on the eve of mortal combat.” 

“You observe closely. Miss Warren.” 

“Why should I not observe closely? Do you 
think me inhuman ? Can I forget what I owe you, 
and that you nearly died ?” 

“ Well,” I said dejectedly, “ what can I do ? It 
seems that I have played the hypocrite all the week 
in vain. I will do whatever you ask. 

V'l was in hopes that as you grew well and strong 
/you would throw off this folly. Have you not 
enough manhood to overcome it ?” 

“No, Miss Warren,” I said bluntly, “ I have not. 
What little manhood I had led to this very thing.” 

“ Such — such — ” 

‘ Enthrallment, you may call it.” 

“ No, I will not ; it’s a degrading word. I would 
not have a slave if I could.” 

“^Since I can’t help it, I don’t see how you can. 
I may have been a poor actor, but I know I’ve not 
been obtrusive.” 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


3H 

“ You have not indeed ” she replied a little bit- 
terly ; “ but you have no cause for such feelings. 
They seem to me unnatural, and the result of amor- 
bid mind.” 

“Yes, you have thought me very ill balanced 
from the first ; but Tm constrained to use such poor 
wits as I possess. ( In the abstract it strikes me as 
not irrational to recognize embodied truth and love- 
liness, and I do not think the less of myself because 
I reached such recognition in hours rather than in 
months. I saw your very self in this old garden, 
and every subsequent day has confirmed that im- 
pression. But there’s no use in wasting words in 
explanation — I don’t try to explain it to myself. 
But the fact is clear enough. By some necessity of 
my nature, it is just as it is. I can no more help it 
than I can help breathing. It was inevitable. My 
only chance was never meeting you, and yet I can 
scarcely wish that even now. Perhaps you think 
I’ve not tried, since I learned I ought to banish your 
image, but I have struggled as if I were engaged in 
a mortal combat, as you suggested. But it’s of no 
use. I can’t deceive you any more than I can 
myself. Now you know the whole truth, and it 
seems that there is no escaping it in our experience. 
I do not expect anything. I ask nothing save that 
you accept the happiness which is your perfect 
right ; for not a shadow of blame rests on you. If 
you were not happy I should be only tenfold more 
wretched. But I’ve no right to speak to you in 
this way. I see I’ve caused you much pain ; I’ve 
ho right even to~look at you feeling as I do. I 


POOR ACTING, 


315 


would have gone before, were it not for hurting 
Mrs. Yocomb’s feelings. I shall return to New 
York next Monday; for — ” 

“ Return to New York !" she repeated, with a 
/ sudden and deep breath ; and she became very 
{ pale. After a second she added hastily, “You are 
not strong enough yet ; we are the ones to go.” 

/ “ Miss Warren,” I said, almost sternly, “ it’s lit- 
f tie that I ask of you or that you can give. I may 
not have deceived you, but I have the^thers. Mrs. 
Yocomb knows ; but she is as merciful as my own 
mother would have been. I’m not ashamed of my 
love — I’m proud of it ; but it’s too sacred a thing, 
"I'iTrid^ — well, if you can’t understand me I can’t ex- 
plmn. All I ask is that you seem indifferent to my 
course beyond ordinary friendliness. There ! God 
\ bless you for your patient kindness ; I will not tres- 
pass on it longer. You have the best and kindest 
heart of any woman in the world. Why don’t you 
eSoUt^a little over your conquest? It’s complete 
enough to satisfy the most insatiable coquette. 
Don’t look so sad. I’ll be your merry -hearted 
friend yet before I’m eighty.” 

But my faint attempt at lightness was a speedy 
failure, for my strong passion broke out irresistibly. 

“ O God !” I exclaimed, “ how beautiful you are 
to me I When shall I forget the look in your kind, 
true eyes? But I’m disgracing myself again. I’ve 
no right to speak to you. I wish I could never see 
you again till my heart had become stone and my 
will like steel and I turned and walked swiftly 
way until, from sheer exhaustion, I threw myself 


3i6 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


under a tree and buried my face in my hands, for 
I hated the warm, sunny light, when my life was 
so cheerless and dark. 

I lay almost as if I were dead for hours, and the 
evening was growing dusky when I arose and 
wearily returned to the farmhouse. They were all 
on the veranda except Miss Warren, who was at 
her piano again. Mrs. Yocomb met me with much 
solicitude. 

“ Reuben tvas just starting out to look for thee,” 
she said. 

” I took a longer ramble than I intended.” I re- 
plied, with a laugh. ” I think I lost myself a little. 
I don’t deserve any supper, and only want a cup 
of tea.” Miss Warren played very softly fora mo- 
ment, and I knew she was listening to my lame ex- 
cuses. 

” It doesn’t matter what thee wants ; I know 
what thee needs. Thee isn’t out of my hands alto- 
gether yet ; come right into the dining-room.” 

” I should think you would be slow to revolt 
against such a benign government,” remarked Mr. 
Hearn most graciously, and the thought occurred 
to me that he was not displeased to have me out of 
the way so long. 

” Yes, indeed,” chimed in Mr. Yocomb ; ” we’re 
always all the better for minding mother. Thee’ll 
find that out, Richard, after thee’s been here a few 
weeks longer.” 

” Mr. Yocomb, you’re loyalty itself. If women 
ever get their rights, our paper will nominate Mrs. 
Yocomb for President,” 


POOR ACTING, 


317 


“ Tve all the rights I want now, Richard, and 
I've the right to scold thee for not taking better 
care of thyself.” 

” I’ll submit to anything from you. You are 
wiser than the advanced female agitators, for you 
know you’ve all the power now, and that we men 
are always at your mercy.” 

” Well, now that thee talks of mercy, I won’t 
scold thee, but give thee thy supper at once.” 

” Thee always knew, Richard, how to get around 
mother,” laughed the genial old man, whose life 
ever seemed as mellow and ripe as a juicy Fall pip- 
pin. 

Adah followed her mother in to assist her, and I 
saw that Miss Warren had turned toward us. 

” Why, Richard Morton !” exclaimed Mrs. Yo- 
comb, as I entered the lighted dining-room. 
” Thee looks as pale and haggard as a ghost. Thee 
must have got lost indeed and gone far beyond thy 
strength.” 

” Can — can I do anything to assist you, Mrs. 
Yocomb,” asked a timid voice from the doorway. 

I was glad that Adah was in the kitchen at 
the moment, for I lost at once my ghostly pallor. 
” Yes,” said Mrs. Yocomb heartily, ” come in and 
make this man eat, and scold him soundly for going 
so far away as to get lost when he’s scarcely able to 
walk at all. I’ve kind of promised I wouldn’t scold 
him, and somebody must.” 

‘‘I’d scold like Xantippe if I thought it would 
do any good,” she said, with a faint smile ; but her 
eyes were full of reproach, For a nionient Mrs, 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


318 

Yocomb disappeared behind the door of her china 
closet, and Miss ^ Warren added, in a low, hurried 
whisper to me, “You promised me to get well 
you are not keeping your word.” ^ 

“ That cuts worse than anything Xantippe could 
have said.” 

“ I don’t want to cut, but to cure.” 

“ Then become the opposite of what you are ; 
that would cure me.” 

“ With such a motive I’m tempted to try,” she 
said, with a half-reckless laugh, for Adah was enter- 
ing with some delicate toast. 

“ Miss Adah,” I cried, “ I owe you a supper at 
the Brunswick for this, and I’ll pay my debt the 
first chance you’ll give me. ” 

“ If thee talks of paying, I’ll not go with thee,” 
she said, a little coldly ; and she seemingly did not 
like the presence of Miss Warren nor the tell-tale 
color in my cheeks. 

“ That’s a deserved rebuke. Miss Adah. I know 
well enough that I can never repay all your kind- 
ness, and so I won’t try. But you’ll go with me 
because I want you to, and because I will be proud 
of your company. I shall be the envy of all the 
men present.” 

“They’d think me very rustic,” she said, smil- 
ing. 

“ Quite as much so as a moss-rose. But you’ll 
see. I will be besieged the next few days by my 
acquaintances for an introduction, and my account 
of you will make them wild. I shall be, however, 
a very dragon of a big brother, and won’t let one of 


POOR acting. 


319 


them come near you who is not a saint— that is, as 
far as I am a judge of the article." 

" Thee may keep them all away if thee pleases," 
she replied, blushing and laughing. " I should be 
afraid of thy fine city friends." 

" Tm afraid of a good many of them myself," I 
replied ; " but some are genuine, and you shall 
have a good time, never fear." 

" I’ll leave you to arrange the details of your 
brilliant campaign," said Miss Warren, smiling. 

" But thee hasn’t scolded Richard," said Mrs. 
Yocomb, who was seemingly busy about the room. 

" My words would have no weight. He knows 
he ought to be ashamed of himself," she answered 
from the doorway. 

" I am, heartily," I said, looking into her eyes a 
moment. 

" Since he’s penitent, Mrs. Yocomb, I don’t see 
as anything more can be done," she replied smil- 
ingly. 

" I don’t think much of penitence unless it’s fol- 
lowed by reformation," said my sensible hostess. 
" We’ll see how he behaves the next few weeks." 

" Mr. Morton, I hope you will let Mrs. Yocomb 
/see a daily change for the better for a long time to 
come. She deserves it at your hands,” and there 
? was almost entreaty in the young girl’s voice. 

' ^ / She ought to know better than to ask it," I 
/ thought. My only answer was a heavy frown, 
( and I turned abruptly away from her appealing 
! glance. 

\ "I think Emily Warren acts very queer," said 


320 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


Adah, alter the young lady had gone ; she’s at 
her piano half the time, and I know from her eyes 
that she’s been crying this afternoon. If ever a 
girl was engaged to a good, kind man, who would 
give her everything, she is. I don’t see — ” 

“ Adah,” interrupted her mother, ” I hoped thee 
was overcoming that trait. It’s not a pleasing one. 
If people give us their confidence, very well ; if not, 
we should be blind.” 

The girl blushed vividly, and looked deprecat- 
1 ingly at me. 

” You meant nothing ill-natured, Miss Adah,” I 
said gently; ” it isn’t in you. Come, now, and let 
me tell you and your mother what a good time I’m 
planning for you in New York,” and we soon made 
the old dining-room ring with our laughter. Mr. 
Yocornb, Reuben, and the children soon joined us, 
and the lovers were left alone on the shadowy porch. 
From the gracious manner of Mr. Hearn the fol- 
lowing morning, I think he rather thanked me for " 
drawing off the embarrassing third parties. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE HOPE OF A HIDDEN TREASURE. 

T he next day I lured Reuben off on a fishing 
excursion to a mountain lake, and so congratu- 
lated myself on escaping ordeals to which I found 
myself wholly unequal. We did not reach the farm- 
house till quite late in the evening, and found that 
Mr. Hearn and Miss Warren were out enjoying a 
moonlight ride. As on the previous evening, all 
the family gathered around Reuben and me as 
we sat down to our late supper, the little girls ar- 
ranging with delight the sylvan spoil that I had 
brought them. They were all so genial and kind 
that I grieved to think that I had but one more 
evening with them, and I thought of my cheerless 
quarters in New York with an inward shiver. 

Before very long Mr. Hearn entered with Miss 
Warren, and the banker was in fine spirits. 

“The moonlit landscapes were divine,” he said. 
“ Never have I seen them surpassed — not even in 
Europe.” 

It was evident that his complacency was not easily 
disturbed, for I thought that a more sympathetic 
lover would have noted that his companion was not 
so enthusiastic as himself. Indeed Miss Warren' 
seemed to bring in with her the cold pale moon- 
light. Her finely-chiseled oval face looked white 


322 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


and thin as if she were chilled, and I noticed that 
she shivered as she entered. 

“ Come,” cried Mr. Yocomb in his hearty way ; 
” Emily, thee and Mr. Hearn have had thy fill of 
moonlight, dew, and such like unsubstantial stuff. 
I’m going to give you both a generous slice of cold 
roast-beef. That’s what makes good red blood ; 
and Emily, thee looks as if thee needed a little more. 
Then I want to see if we cannot provoke thee to 
one of thy old-time laughs. Seems to me we’ve 
missed it a little of late. Thy laugh beats all thy 
music at the piano.” 

“Yes, Emily,” said Mr. Hearn a Jittle discon- 
tentedly, ” I think you are growing rather quiet and 
distraite of late. When have I heard one of your 
genuine, mirthful laughs?” 

With a sudden wonder my mind took up his ques- 
tion. When had I heard her laugh, whose conta- 
gious joyousness was so infectious that I, too, had 
laughed without knowing why. I now remembered 
that it was before he came ; it was that morning 
when my memory, more kind than my fate, still 
refused to reveal the disappointment that now was 
crushing my very soul ; it was when all in the 
farm-house were so glad at my assured recovery. 
Reuben had said that she was like a lark that day — 
that she equalled Dapple in her glad life. I could 
recall no such day since, though her lov^er was pres- 
ent, and her happiness assured. Even he was be- 
ginning to note that the light of his countenance 
did not illumine her face — that she was ” quiet and 
distraite n ’ ’ 


THE HOPE OF A HIDDEN TREASURE, 323 


Man like, I had to think it all out, but I thought 
swiftly. The echo of his words had scarcely died 
away before the light of a great hope flashed into 
my face as my whole heert put the question, 

“ Can it be only sympathy ?” 

She met my eager glance shrinkingly. I felt 
almost as if my life depended on the answer that 
she might consciously or unconsciously give. Why 
did she fall into painful and even piteous confusion ? 

But her womanly pride and strong character at 
once assert^ themselves, for she arose quietly, say- 
ing, “ I do not feel well this evening,” and she left 
the room. 

Mr. Hearn followed precipitately, and was pro- 
fuse in his commiseration. 

” I shall be well in the morning,” she said, with 
such clear, confident emphasis that it occurred to 
me that the assurance was not meant for his ears 
only ; then, in spite of his entreaties, she went to 
her room. 

I wanted no more supper, and made a poor pre- 
tence of keeping Reuben company, and I thought 
his boy’s appetite never would be satisfied. My 
mind was in such a tumult of hope and fear that I 
had to strive with my whole strength for self-mas- 
tery, so as to excite no surmises. Mrs. Yocomb 
gave me a few inquiring glances, thinking, perhaps, 
that I was showing more solicitude about Miss War- 
ren than was wise ; but in fact they were all so sim- 
ple-hearted, so accustomed to express all they 
thought and felt, that they were not inclined to 
search for hidden and subtle motives. Even feign* 


P4 


A lyAY OF FA TK 


ing more bungling than mine would have kept my 
secret from them. Adah seemed relieved at Miss 
Warren’s departure. Mr. Hearn lighted a cigar 
and sat down on the piazza ; as soon as possible I 
pleaded fatigue and retired to my room, for I was 
eager to be alone that I might, unwatched, look with 
fearful yet glistening eyes on the trace I had dis- 
covered of an infinite treasure. 

I again sat down by the window and looked into 
the old garden. The possibility that the woman 
that I had there seen, undisguised in her beautiful 
truth, might be drawing near me, under an impulse 
too strong to be resisted, thrilled my very soul. 

It’s contrary to reason, to every law in nature,” I 
said, ” that she should attract me with such tremen- 
dous gravitation, and yet my love have no counter- 
action.” 

” And yet,” I murmured, ” beware — beware how 
you hope. Possibly she is merely indisposed. It 
is more probable that her feelings toward you are 
those of gratitude only and of deep sympathy. She 
is under the impression that you saved her life, and 
that she has unwittingly blighted yours ; and, as 
Mrs. Yocomb said, she is so kind-hearted, so sensi- 
tive, that the thought shadows her life and robs it 
of zest and happiness. You cannot know that she 
IS learning to return your love in spite of herself, 
simply because she is pale and somewhat sad. 
She would think herself, as she said, inhuman if she 
were happy and serene. I must seek for other 
tests; and I thought long and deeply. ‘‘0 Will 
Shakespeare !” I at last murmured, ” you knew the 


THE HOPE OF A HIDDEN TREASURE. 325 


human heart, if. any one ever did. 
now that you wrote : 


I remembet 




‘ A murd’rous guilt shows not itself more sooiTX 
Than love that would seem hid.’ ” ' 


“ Q}i for the eyes of Argus. If all the mines of 
wealth in the world were uncovered, and I might 
have them all for looking, I’d turn away for one clear 
glimpse into her woman’s heart to-night. Go to 
New York on Monday ! No, not unless driven away 
with a whip of scorpions. No eagle that ever 
circled those skies watched as I’ll stay and watch 
for the faintest trace of this priceless secret. No 
detective, stimulated by professional pride and 
vast reward, ever sought proof of ‘ murd’rous guilt ’ 
as I shall seek for evidences of this pure woman’s 
love, for more than life depends on the result of my 
quest.” 

Words like these would once have seemed ex- 
travagant and absurd, but in the abandon of my 
solitude and in my strong excitement they but in- 
adequately expressed the thoughts that surged 
through my mind. But as I grew calmer. Con- 
science asked to be heard. 

” Just what do you propose ?” it asked ; ‘‘to win 
her from another, who now has every right to her 
allegiance and love ? Change places, and how would 
you regard the man who sought to supplant you ? 
You cannot win happiness at the expense of your 
honor.” " — — ^ 

Then Reason added, with quiet emphasis, ‘‘ Even 
though your conscience is not equal to the emer- 


326 


A DA Y OF FA TE. 


gency, hers will be. She will do what seems right 
without any regard for the consequences. If you 
sought to woo hdr now, she would despise you ; 
she would regard it as an insult that she would 
never forgive. It would appear proof complete 
that you doubted her truth, her chief chaj?acter- 
istic. ” 

Between them they made so strong a case against 
me that my heart sank at the prospect. But hope 
is the lever that moves the world onward, and the 
faint hope that had dawned on my thick night was 
too dear and bright a one to leave me crushed again 
by my old despondency, and I felt that there must 
be some way of untangling the problem. If the 
wall of honor hedged me in on every side, I would 
know the fact to be true before I accepted it. 

“ I do not propose to woo her,” I argued ; and 
possibly my good resolution was strengthened by 
the knowledge that such a course would be fatal to 
my hope I only intend to discover what may 
possibly exist. I never have intentionally sought to 
influence her, even by a glance, since I knew of 
her relation to Mr. Hearn. I’m under no obliga- 
tion to this prosperous banker ; I’m only bound by 
honor in the abstract. They are not married. 
Mrs. Yocomb would say that I had been brought 
hither by an overruling Providence — it certainly 
was not a conscious choice of mine — and since I 
met this woman everything has conspired to bring 
me to my present position. I know I’m not to 
blame for it — no more than I was for the storm or 
the lightning bolt. What a clod I should be were 


THE HOPE OF A HIDDEN TREASURE. 327 

1 indifferent to the traits that she has manifested ! 
I feel with absolute certainty that I cannot help 
the impression that she has made on me. If I 
could have foreseen it all, I might have remained 
away ; but I was led hither, and kept here by my 
illness till my chains are riveted and locked, and 
the key is lost. I cannot escape the fact that I be- 
long to her, body and soul. 

“ Now suppose, for the sake of argument, that 
gratitude, respect, friendliness, a sense of being un- 
protected and alone in the world, have led to her 
engagement with the wealthy, middle-aged banker, 
and that through it all her woman’s heart was never 
awakened : such a thing at least is possible. If this 
were true, she would be no more to blame than I, 
and we might become the happy victims of circum- 
stances. I’m not worthy of her, and never shall be, 
but I can’t help that either. After all, it seems to 
me that that which should fulfil my hope is not a 
ledger balance of good qualities, but the magnetic 
sympathy of two natures that supplement each 
other, and were designed for each other in Heaven’s 
match-making. Even now my best hope is based 
on the truth that she attracts me so irresistibly, and 
though a much smaller body morally, I should have 
some corresponding attraction for her. If her 
woman’s heart has become mine, what can she give 
him ? Her very truth may become my most power- 
ful ally. If she still loves him, I will go away and 
stay away ; if it be in accordance with my trem- 
bling hope, I have the higher right, and I will assert 
it to the utmost extent of my power. Shall the 


32 ^ 


A PA V OF FA TE. 


happiness of two lives be sacrificed to his unflagging 
prosperity ? Could it ever be right for him to lead 
her body to the altar and leave her heart with me ? 
Could she, who is truth itself, go there and perjure 
herself before God and man ? No ! a thousand 
times no ! It has become a simple question of whom 
she loves, and I’ll find out if Shakespeare’s words 
are true. If she has love for me, let her bury it 
never so deeply, my love will be the divining-rod 
that will inevitably discover it.” 

Having reached this conclusion, I at last slept, 
in the small hours of the night. 

I thought I detected something like apprehen- 
sion in her eyes when I met her in the morning. 
Was she conscious of a secret that might reveal 
itself in spite of her ? But she was cheerful and 
decided in her manner, and seemed bent on assur- 
ing Mr. H^'arn that she was well again, and all that 
he could desire. 

Were I in^^ortal peril I could not have been 
more vigilantly bn my, guard. Not for the world 
would I permit her to know what was passing in my 
mirid^at least not yet — and as far as possible I re- 
sumed my old manner. I even simulated more de- 
jection than I felt, to counterbalance the flash of 
hope that I feared she had recognized on the pre- 
vious evening. 

I well knew that all her woman’s strength, that 
all her woman’s pride and exalted sense of honor 
would bind her to him, who was serenely secure in 
his trust. My one hope was that her woman’s 
heart was my ally ; that it would prove the strong- 


THE HOPE OF A HIDDEN TREASURE. 329 

est ; that it would so assert itself that truth and 
honor would at last range themselves on its side. 
Little did the simple, frank old Quaker realize the 
passionate alternations of hope and fear that I 
brought to his breakfast-table that bright Sunday. 

All that my guarded scrutiny could gather was 
that Miss Warren was a little too devoted and 
thoughtful of her urbane lover, and that her cheer- 
fulness lacked somewhat in spontaneity. 

It was agreed at the breakfast-table that we 
should all go to meeting. 

“ Mrs. Yocomb,” I said, finding her alone fora 
moment, “ won’t you be moved this morning? I 
need one of your sermons more than any heathen 
in Africa. Whatever your faith is, I believe in it, 
for I’ve seen its fruits.” 

“If a message is given to me I will not be 
silent ; if not, it would be presumptuous to speak. 
But my prayer is that the Spirit whom we worship 
may speak to thee, and that thou wilt listen. Un- 
less He speaks, my poor words would be of no 
avail.” 

“ You are a mystery to me, Mrs. Yocomb, with 
your genial homely farm life here, and your mys- 
tical spiritual heights at the meeting-house. You 
seem to go from the kitchen by easy and natural 
transition to regions beyond the stars, and to pass 
without hesitancy from the companionship of us 
poor mortals into a Presence that is to me supreme- 
ly awful. ” 

” Thee doesn’t understand, Richard. The little 
faith I have I take with me to the kitchen, and 


A PAY OF FA TE. 


330 


Tm not afraid of my Father in heaven because he 
is so great and Fm so little. Is Zillah afraid of her 
father?” 

I suppose you are right, and I admit that I 
don^t understand, and I don’t see how I could 
reason it out.” 

“God’s children,” she replied, “as all children, 
come to believe many blessed truths without the 
aid of reason. It was not reason that taught me 
my mother’s love, and yet, now that I have chil- 
dren, it seems very reasonable. I think I learned 
most from what she said to me and did for me. 
If ever children were assured of love by their 
Heavenly Father, we have been ; if it is possible 
for a human soul to be touched by loving, unselfish 
devotion, let him read the story of Christ.” 


“ But, Mrs. Yocomb, I’m not one of the chil- 
dren.” 



“ Yes, thee is. The trouble with thee is that 
thee’s ashamed, or at least that thee won’t acknowl- 
edge the relation, and be true to it.” 

Dear Mrs. Y ocomb, ’ ’ I cried in dismay, ‘ ‘ I must 
either renounce heathenism or go away from your 
influence,” and I left precipitately. 

But in truth I was too far gone in human idolatry 
to think long upon her words ; they lodged in my 
memory, however, and I trust will never lose their 
influence. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE AGAIN. 

R euben and I, with Dapple, skimmed along the 
country roads, and my hope and spirits kin- 
dled, though I scarcely knew why. We were early 
at the meeting-house, and, to my joy, I gained my 
old seat, in which I had woven my June day-dream 
around the fair unknown Quakeress whose face was 
now that of a loved sister. What ages, seemingly, 
had elapsed since that fateful day ! What infinite 
advances in life’s experiences I had made since I 
last sat there ! How near I had come to the expe- 
riences of another life I The fact made me grave 
and thoughtful. And yet, if my fear and not my 
hope were realized, what a burden was imposed upon 
me with the life that disease had spared ! Had I 
even Mrs. Yocomb’s faith, I knew it would be a 
weight under which I would often stagger and faint. 

Before very long the great family rockaway un- 
loaded its precious freight at the horse-block, and 
Adah and Miss Warren entered, followed by the 
little girls. In secret wonder I saw Adah pause be- 
fore the same long, straight-backed bench or pew, 
and Miss Warren take the place where I had first 
seen my “embodiment of June.” Mrs. Yocomb 
went quietly to her place on the high seat. 

“ The spell continues to work, but with an im- 
p^^itant change,” I thought. 


332 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


In a few moments Mr. Yocomb marshalled in 
’Mr. Hearn, and placed him in the end of the pew 
next to Miss Warren on the men’s side, so that 
they might have the satisfaction of sitting together, 
as if at church. He then looked around for me ; 
but I shook my head, and would not go up higher. 

Soon all the simple, plainly apparelled folk 
who would attend that day were in their places, 
and the old deep hush that I so well remem- 
bered settled down upon us. The sweet low 
monotone of the summer wind was playing still 
among the maples. I do believe that it was the 
same old bumble-bee that darted in, still unable to 
overcome its irate wonder at a people who could be 
so quiet and serene. The sunlight flickered in here 
and there, and shadowy leaves moved noiselessly 
up and down the whitewashed wall. Only the occa- 
sional song of a bird was wanting to reproduce the 
former hour, but at this later season the birds 
seem content with calls and chirpings, and in the 
July heat they were almost as silent as we were. 

But how weak and fanciful my June day-dream 
now seemed. Then woman’s influence on my life 
was but a romantic sentiment. I had then conjured 
up a pretty vista full of serene, quiet domestic joys, 
which were to be a solace merely of my real life of 
toil and ambition. I had thought myself launched 
on a shining tide, that would bear me smoothly to 
a quiet home anchorage ; but almost the first word 
that Emily Warren spoke broke the spell of my 
complacent, indolent dream, and I awoke to the 
presence of an earnest, large-souled woman, who 


THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE AGAIN. 333 

was my peer, and in many respects my superior ; 
whom, so far from being a mere household pet, could 
be counsellor and friend, and a daily inspiration. 
Instead of shrinking from the world with which I 
must grapple, she already looked out upon its 
tangled and cruel problems with clear, intelligent, 
courageous eyes ; single-handed she had-eoped with 
it and won from it a place and respect. _ And yet, 
with all her strength and fearlessness, she had kept 
her woman’s heart gentle and tende^ Oh, who 
could have better proof of this than I, vTlohad seen 
her face bending over the little unconscious Zillah, 
and who had heard her low sob when she feared I 
might be dying. 

The two maidens sat side by side, and I was not 
good enough to think of anything better or purer 
than they. Adah, with her face composed to its 
meeting-house quiet, but softened and made more 
beautiful by passing shades of thought ; still it 
seemed almost as young and childlike as that of 
Zillah. Miss Warren’s profile was less round and full, 
but it was more finely chiselled, and was luminous 
with mind. The slightly higher forehead, the more 
delicately arched eyebrow, the deeper setting of 
her dark, changing eyes, that were placed wide apart 
beneath the overhanging brow, the short, thin 
tremulous upper lip, were all indications of the 
quick, informing spirit which made her face like a 
transparency through which her thoughts could 
often be guessed before spoken ; and since they 
were good, noble, genial thoughts, they enhanced 
her beauty. And yet it had occurred to me more 


334 


A DAY OF FATE. 


then once that if Miss Warren were a depraved 
woman she could give to evil a deadly fascination. 

"Are her thoughts wandering like mine.^’’ I 
mused. With kindling hope I saw her face grow 
sad, and I even imagined that her pallor increased. 
For a long time she looked quietly and fixedly be- 
fore her, as did Adah, and then she stole ashy, hesi- 
tating glance at Mr. Hearn by her side ; but the 
banker seemingly had found the silent meeting a 
trifle dull, for his eyes were heavy, and all life and 
animation had faded out of his full white face. 
Was it my imagination, or did she slightly shrink 
from him ? In an almost instantaneous flash she 
turned a little more and glanced at me, and I was 
caught in the act of almost breathless scrutiny. A 
sudden red flamed in her cheeks, but not a Friend 
of them all was more motionless than she at once 
became. 

My conscience smote me. Though I watched for 
her happiness as truly as my own, the old meeting- 
house should have been a sanctuary even from the 
eyes of love. I knew from the expression of her 
face that she had not liked it ; nor did I blame her. 

I was glad to have the silence of the meeting 
broken ; for a venerable man rose slowly from the 
high seat and reverently enunciated the words, 

"The Lord of Hosts is with us; the God of 
Jacob is our refuge. 

" He maketh wars to cease unto the end of the 
earth ; he breaketh the bow and cutteth the spear 
in sunder ; he burneth the chariot in the fire. 

“ Be still, and know that I am God/’ 


THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE AGA/N. 335 

“ The quiet, reverent bowing of the heart to 
his will is often the most acceptable worship that 
we can offer,” he began, and if he had stopped 
there the effect would have been perfect ; but he 
began to talk and to ramble. With a sense of deep 
disappointment I dreaded lest the hour should pass 
and that Mrs. Yocomb would not speak ; but as 
the old gentleman sat down, that rapt look was 
on her face that I remembered seeing on the night 
of the storm. She rose, took off her deep Quaker 
bonnet, and laid it quietly on the seat beside her ; 
but one saw that she was not thinking of it or of 
anything except the truth which filled her mind. 

Clasping her hands before her she looked stead- 
fastly toward heaven for a few moments, and then, 
in a low, sweet, penetrating monotone, repeated 
the words, 

” ‘ Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto 
you : not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let 
not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. 

She paused a moment, and I gazed in won- 
der at her serene, uplifted face. She had spoken 
with such an utter absence of self-consciousness or 
regard for externals as to give the strong impres- 
sion that the words had come again from heaven 
through her lips, and were endowed with a new life 
and richer meaning ; and now she seemed waiting 
for whatever else might be given to her. 

Could that inspired woman, who now looked as if 
she might have stood unabashed on the Mount of 
Transfiguration, be my genial, untiring nurse, and 
the cheery matron of the farm-house, whose deft 


33 ^ 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


hands hac* made the sweet, light bread we had eaten 
this morning ? I had long loved her , but now, as I 
realized as never before the grand compass of her 
womanly nature, I began to reverence her. A swift 
glance at Miss Warren revealed that the text had 
awakened an interest so deep as to suggest a great 
and present need, for the maiden was leaning 
slightly toward the speaker and waiting with parted 
lips. 

“As I sat here,” Mrs. Yocomb began, looking 
down upon us with a grave, gentle aspect, “ these 
words came to me as if spoken in my soul, and I am 
constrained to repeat them unto you. I’m impressed 
with the truth that peace is the chief need of the 
world — the chief need of every human heart. Be- 
yond success, beyond prosperity, beyond happiness, 
is the need of peace — the deep, assured rest of the 
soul that is akin to the eternal calmness of Him 
who spake these words. 

“ The world at large is full of turmoil and trou- 
ble. The sounds of its wretched disquietude reach 
me even in this quiet place and at this quiet hour. 
I seem to hear the fierce uproar of battle ; for while 
we are turning our thoughts up to the God of 
peace, misguided men are dealing death-blows to 
their fellow men. I hear cries of rage, I hear the 
groans of the dying. But sadder than these bloody 
fields of open strife are the dark places of cruelty. 
I hear the clank of the prisoner’s chain, and the crack 
of the slave-driver’s whip. I see desperate and 
despairing faces revealing tortured souls to whom the 
light of each day brings more bitter wrongs, viler 


THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE AGAIN. 337 

indignities, until they are ready to curse God for the 
burden of life. Sadder still, I hear the dark whis- 
perings of those who would destroy the innocent 
and cast down the simple. I hear the satanic laugh 
of such as are false to sacred trusts and holy 
obligations, who ruthlessly as swine are rending 
hearts that have given all the pearls they had. 
From that sacred place, home, come to me hot 
words of strife, drunken, brutal blows, and the wail- 
ing of helpless women and children. Saddest of 
all earthly sounds, I hear the wild revelry of those 
who are not the victims of evil in others, but who, 
while madly seeking happiness, are blotting out all 
hope of happiness, and who are committing that 
crime of crimes, the destruction of their own immor- 
tal souls. Did I say the last was the saddest of 
earthly sounds ? There comes to me another, at 
which my heart sinks ; it is the sound of proud 
arrogant voices, who are explaining that faith is a 
delusion, that prayer is wasted breath, that the 
God of the Bible is a dream of old-time mystics, 
and that Christ died in vain. I hear the moan of 
Mary at the sepulchre repeated from thousands of 
hearts, ‘ They have taken away my Lord.’ O God, 
forgive those who would blot out the dearest hope 
which has ever sustained humanity. Can there be 
^eace" m a world wherein we can never escape these 
sad, terrible, discordant sounds ? The words that 
I have repeated were spoken in just such a world 
when the din of evil was at its worst, and to those 
who must soon suffer all the wrong that the world 
could inflict.” 


338 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


After a brief pause of silent waiting she con- 
tinued : 

“ But is the turmoil of the world a far-away sound, 
like the sullen roar of angry waves beating on a 
shore that rises high and enduring, securing us 
safety and rest ? Beyond the deep disquietude of 
the world at large is the deeper unrest of the human 
heart. No life can be so secluded and sheltered 
but that anxieties, doubts, fears, and foreboding will 
come with all their disturbing power. Often sor- 
rows more bitter than death are hidden by smil- 
ing faces, and in our quiet country homes there ai c 
men and women carrying burdens that are crushing 
out hope and life : mothers breaking their hearts 
over wayward sons and daughters ; wives desperate 
because the men who wooed them as blushing 
maidens have forgotten their vows, and have be- 
come swinish sots ; men disheartened because the 
sweet-faced girls that they thought would give 
them a home have become vile slatterns, busy- 
bodies, shrill-tongued shrews, who banish the very 
thought of peace and rest, who waste their sub- 
stance and eat out their hearts with care. Oh, the 
clouds of earth are not those which sweep across 
the sun, but those which rise out of unhappy hearts 
and evil lives. These are the clouds that gather 
over too many in a leaden pal'l, and it seems as if 
no light could ever break through them. There 
are hearts to whom life seems to promise one long, 
hopeless struggle to endure an incurable pain. 
Can there be peace for such unhappy ones ? To 
just such human hearts were the words spoken. 


THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE AGAIN. 


339 


‘ Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto 
you.’ ” 

Then came one of those little pauses that were 
quite as impressive as the preceding words. Al- 
though my interest was almost breathless, I invol- 
untarily looked toward one whom I now associated 
with every thought. 

‘ O God !” I exclaimed mentally, “ can that be 
the aspect of a maiden happy in her love and hope ?” 
Her face had become almost white, and across the 
pallor of her cheeks tear followed tear, as from a 
full and bitter fountain. 

“ Never, in all this evil world,” the speaker re- 
sumed, “was there such cruel, bitter mockery as 
these words would be if they were not true — if he 
who spake them had no right to speak them. And 
what right would he have to speak them if he were 
merely a man among men — a part of the world 
which never has and never can give peace to the 
troubled soul ? How do we know these words are 
true ? How do we know he had a right to speak 
them ? Thank God ! I know, because he has 
kept his word to me. Thank God ! Millions know, 
because he has proved his power to them. The 
scourged, persecuted, crucified disciples found that 
he was with them always, even unto the end. 
Oh, my friends, it is this living, loving, spiritual 
Presence that uplifts and sustains the sinking heart 
when the whole great world could only stand help- 
lessly by ‘Not as the world giveth, give I unto 
you. Yes, thank thee, Lord, ‘ not as the world.’ 
In spite of the world and the worst it can do, in 


340 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


Spite of our evil and the worst it can do, in spite ot 
our sorrows, our fears, our pains and losses, our 
bitter disappointments, thou canst give peace ; 
thou hast given peace. No storm can harm the 
soul that rests on the Rock of Ages, and by and by 
he will say to the storm, ‘ Peace, be still,’ and the 
light of heaven will come. Then there shall be no 
more night. God shall wipe away all tears from 
their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, 
neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any 
more pain ; for the former things are passed away.’ ” 

The light and gladness of that blessed future 
seemed to have come into her sweet, womanly face. 
I looked out of the window to hide tears of which 
I was fool enough to be ashamed. 

When she spoke again her voice was low and 
pitiful, and her face full of the divinest sympathy. 
“ Dear friends,” she said, ” it was not merely peace 
that he promised, but his peace. ‘ My peace I 
give unto you.’ Remember, it was the man of sor- 
rows who spoke ; remember that he was acquainted 
with grief ; remember that years of toil and hard- 
ship were behind him, and that Gethsemane and 
Calvary were before him ; remember that one would 
betray him, and that all would desert him. When 
he spoke, the storm of the world’s evil was breaking 
upon him more cruelly and remorselessly than it 
ever has on any tempted soul. He suffered more 
because more able to suffer. But beneath all was 
the sacred calm of one who is right, and who means 
to do right to the end, cost what it may. The 
peace that he promises is not immunity from pain 


THE OLD MEETrNG-HOVSE AGA/AT. 34 1 

6r loss, or the gratification of the heart’s earthly 
desires. His natural and earthly desires were not 
gratified ; often ours cannot be. His peace came 
from self-denial for the good of others, from the 
consciousness that he was doing his Father’s will, 
and from the assurance that good would come out 
of the seeming evil. Suffer he must, because he 
was human, and in a world of suffering ; but he 
chose to suffer that we might know that he under- 
stands us, and sympathizes with us when we suffer. 
To each and to all he can say, I was tempted in all 
points like unto thee. When we wander he goes 
out after us ; when we fall he lifts us up ; when we 
faint he takes us in his arms and carries us on his 
bosom. O great heart of love ! thy patience never 
tires, never wearies. Thou canst make good to us 
every earthly loss ; thy touch can heal every wound 
of the soul. Even though life be one long martyr- 
dom, yet through thy Presence it may be a blessed 
life, full of peace. 

“ Because our Lord was a man of sorrows, was he 
in love with sorrows ? or does he love to see storms 
gathering around his people ? No. It was not 
with /its sorrows, but with our sorrows, that he was 
afflicted. He so loved the world that he could not 
be glad when we were sad. It is said that there is 
no record that Jesus ever smiled ; but those little 
children whom he took in his arms and blessed 
know that he smiled. I doubt whether he ever saw 
a flower but that, no matter how weary from the hot 
day’s long journey, he *smiled back upon it. The 
flowers are but his smiles, and the world is full of 


342 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


them. Still he is naturally and very justly asso- 
ciated with sorrow ; for when on earth he sought out 
those in trouble, and the distressed and the suffer- 
ing soon learned to fly to him. What was the re- 
sult ? Were the shadows deepened ? Was the 
suffering prolonged ? Let the sisters of Bethany 
answer you ; let the widow of Nain answer you. 
Let the great host of the lame, blind, diseased, and 
leprous answer. Look into the gentle, serene eyes 
of Mary Magdalene, once so desperate and clouded 
by evil, and then know whether he brings sorrow 
or joy to the world. Just as the sun follows the 
night that it may bring the day, so the Sun of 
Righteousness seeks out all that is dark in our lives 
that he may shine it away. Gladness, then, should 
be the rule of our lives. Nothing to him is so 
pleasing as gladness, if it comes from the heart of 
pilgrims truly homeward bound ; but if sorrow 
comes, oh, turn not to the world, for the best thing 
in it can give no peace, no rest. Simply do right, 
and leave the results with him who said, even under 
the shadow of his cross, ‘ My peace I give unto 
you.’ Accept this message, dear friends, and ‘ Let 
not your hearts be troubled, and neither let them 
be afraid.’ ” And she sat down quietly and closed 
her eyes. 

There was here and there a low sob from the 
women, and the eyes, of some of the most rugged- 
featured men were moist. The hush that followed 
was broken by deep and frequent sighs. Mr. Yo- 
comb sat with his face lifted heavenward, and I 
knew it was serene and thankful. The eyes of Reu- 


THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE AGAIN. 343 


ben, who was beside me, rested on his mother in 
simple, loving devotion. As yet she was his relig- 
ion. Adah was looking a little wonderingly but 
sympathetically at Miss Warren, whose bowed head 
and fallen veil could not hide her deep emotion. 
The banker, too, looked at her even more wonder- 
ingly. At last the most venerable man on the high 
seat gave his hand to another white-haired Friend 
beside him, and the congregation began slowly and 
quietly to disperse. 

“Come, Reuben,” I said, in a whisper, “ let us 
get away, quick.” 

He looked at me in surprise, but in a few mo- 
ments the old meeting-house was hidden behind us 
among the trees. Dapple’s feet scarcely touched 
the ground ; but I sat silent, absorbed, and almost 
overwhelmed. 

“Didn’t — didn’t thee like what mother said?” 
Reuben asked, after a while, a little hurt. 

I felt at once that he misunderstood my silence, 
and I put my arm around his neck as I said, “ Reu\ 
ben, love and honor your mother the longest day 
you live. She is one among a million. ‘ Liked !y 
It mattered little whether I liked it or not ; she 
made it seem God’s own truth.” 

“And to think, Richard, that if it hadn’t been 
for thee — ” 

‘ Hush, Reuben. To think rather that she wait- 
ed on me for days and nights together. Well, I 
could turn Catholic and worship one saint.” 

“I’m glad she’s only mother,” said the boy, 
with a low laugh ; “ and Richard, she likes me to 


344 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


have a good time as much as I do myself. She 
always made me mind, but she’s been jolly good to 
me. Oh, I love her ; don’t thee worry about that.” 

” Well, whatever happens,” I said, with a deep 
breath, ” I thank God for the day that brought me 
to her home.” 

‘‘So do I,” said the boy ; ‘‘ so do we all ; but 
confound Emily Warren’s grandfather ! I don’t 
take to him. He thinks we’re wonderfully simple 
folks, just about good enough to board him and 
that black-eyed witch of his. I do kind of like 
her a little bit, she’s so saucy like sometimes. 
One day she commenced ordering me around, and I 
stood and stared at the little miss in a way that she 
won’t forget.” 

‘‘ She’ll learn to coax by and by, and then you’ll 
do anything for her, Reuben.” 

‘‘ P’raps,” he said, with a half smile on his ruddy 
face. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


LOVE TEACHING ETHICS. 

O N reaching the farmhouse I went directly to 
my room, and I wished that I might stay 
there the rest of the day ; but I was soon sum- 
moned to dinner. In Miss Warren’s eyes still 
lingered the evidences of her deep feeling, but her 
expression was quiet, firm, and resolute. The 
effect of the sermon upon her was just what I an- 
ticipated in case my hope had any foundation — it 
had bound her by what seemed the strongest of mo- 
tives to be faithful to the man whom she believed 
had the right to her fealty. 

“Well,” I thought bitterly, “life might have 
brought her a heavier cross than marrying a hand- 
some millionaire, even though considerably her 
senior. Tm probably a conceited fool for thinking 
it any very great burden at all. But how, then, can 
I account — ? Well, well, time alone can unravel 
this snarl. One thing is certain : she will do nothing 
that she does not believe right ; and after what Mrs. 
Yocomb said I would not dare to wish her to do 
wrong. 

Mrs. Yocomb did not come down to dinner, and 
the meal was a quiet one. Mr. Yocomb’s eyes 
glistened with a serene, happy light, but he ate 
sparingly, and spoke in subdued tones. He re- 
minded me of the quaint old scripture A man’s 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


34<5 

wisdom maketh his face to shine.” Whatever 
might be said against his philosophy, it produced 
good cheer and peace. Adah, too, was very 
quiet ; but occasionally she glanced toward Miss 
Warren as if perplexed and somewhat troubled. 
Mr. Hearn seemed wrought up into quite a relig- 
ious fervor. He was demonstratively tender and 
sympathetic toward the girl at his side, and waited 
on her with the effusive manner of one whose feel- 
ings must have some outlet. His appetite, how- 
ever, did not flag, and I thought he seemed to enjoy 
his emotions and his dinner equally. 

“Mr. Morton,” he said impressively, “you 
must have liked that sermon exceedingly.” 

” Indeed, sir,” I replied briefly, ” I have scarcely 
thought whether 1 liked it or not.” 

Both he and Miss Warren looked at me in sur- 
prise ; indeed all did except Reuben. 

” I beg your pardon, but I thought Mrs. Yocomb 
expressed herself admirably,” he said, with some- 
what of the air of championship. 

” She certainly expressed herself clearly. The 
trouble with me is that the sermon is just what 
Mrs. Yocomb would call it — a message — and one 
scarcely knows how to dodge it. I never had such 
a spiritual blow between the eyes before, and think 
I’m a little stunned yet.” 

A smile lighted up Miss Warren’s face. ” Mrs. 
Yocomb would like your tribute to her sermon, I 
think,” she said. 

“ What most bewilders me,” I resumed, ” is to 
think how Mrs. Yocomb has been waiting on me 


LOVE TEACHING ETHICS. 347 

and taking care of me. I now feel like the peas- 
ant who was taken in and cared for by the royal 
family. 

“ I think our friend Mr. Morton is in what may 
be termed ‘ a frame of mind,’ ” said Mr. Hearn a 
little satirically. 

“ Yes, sir, I am,” I replied emphatically. ‘‘I 
believe that adequate causes should have some 
effects. It does not follow, however, that my 
frame of mind is satisfactory to any one, least of all 
to Mrs. Yocomb. ” 

‘‘ Your contact with the truth,” said Mr. Hearn, 
laughing, ” is somewhat like many people’s first 
experience of the ocean — you are much stirred up, 
but have not yet reached the point of yielding to 
the mysterious malady.” 

I was disgusted, and was about to reply with a 
sarcastic compliment upon the elegance of his illus- 
tration, when a look of pain upon Miss Warren’s 
face checked me, and I said nothing. Lack of 
delicacy was one of Mr. Hearn’s grave.st faults. 
While courtly, polished, and refined in externals, he 
lacked in tact and nicety of discrimination. He 
often said things which a finer fibred but much 
worse man would never have said. He had an 
abundance of intellect, great shrewdness, vast will 
force, and organizing power, but not much ideality 
or imagination. This lack rendered him incapable 
of putting himself in the place of another, and of 
appreciating their feelings, moods, and motives. 
The most revolting thought to me of his union with 
Miss Warren was that he would never appreciate her. 


348 


A BAY OF FA TE. 


He greatly admired and respected her, but hij 
spiritual eyes were too dim to note the exquisite 
bloom on her character, or to detect the evanescent 
lights and shades of thought and feeling of which 
to me her mobile face gave so many hints. He 
would expect her to be like the July days now pass- 
ing — warm, bright, cloudless, and in keeping with 
his general prosperity. 

“ They will disappoint each other inevitably,” I 
thought, “ and it’s strange that her clear eyes can- 
not see it when mine can. It is perhaps the 
strongest evidence of her love for him, since love is 
blind. Still she may love and yet be able to see 
his foibles and failings clearly ; thousands of women 
do this. But whether the silken cord of love or 
the chain of supposed duty binds her to him now, 
I fear that Mrs. Yocomb’s sermon has made her his 
for all time. 

Her manner confirmed my surmise, for she ap- 
parently gave me little thought, and was unobtru- 
sively attentive and devoted to him. He had the 
good taste to see that further personal remarks 
were not agreeable ; and since his last attempted 
witticism fell flat, did not attempt any more. Our 
table-talk flagged, and we hastened through the 
meal. After it was over he asked, 

” Emily, what shall we do this afternoon ?” 

” Anything you wish,” she replied quietly. 

” That’s the way it will always be,” I muttered 
as I went dejectedly to my room. ” Through 11 
his life it has been ‘ anything you wish,’ and now 
it would seem as if religion itself had become his 


LOVE TEACHING ETHICS. 


349 


ally. There is nothing to me so wonderful as some 
men's fortune. Earth and heaven seem in league 
to forward their interests. But why was she so 
moved at the meeting-house ? Was it merely re- 
ligious sensibility ? It might have been : we were 
all moved deeply. Was it my imagination, or did 
she really shrink from him, and then glance guiltily 
at me ? Even if she had, it might have been a 
momentary repulsion caused by his drowsy, heavy 
aspect at the time, just as his remark at dinner 
gave her an unpleasant twinge. These little back 
eddies are no proof that there is not a strong central 
current. 

“ Can it be that she was sorrowful in the meeting- 
house for my sake only? Tve had strong proof of 
her wonderful kindness of heart. Well, God bless 
her any way. I’ll wait and watch till I know the 
truth. I suppose I’m the worst heathen Mrs. 
Yocomb ever preached to, but I’m going to secure 
Emily Warren’s happiness at any cost. If she 
truly loves this man, I’ll go away and fight it out 
so sturdily that she need not worry. That’s what 
her sermon means for me. I’m not going to pump 
up any religious sentiment. I don’t feel any. It’s 
like walking into a bare room to have a turn with 
a thumb-screw ; but Mrs. Yocomb has hedged me 
up to just this course. Oh, the gentle, inexorable 
woman I Satan himself might well tremble before 
her. There is but one that I fear more, and that’s 
the woman I love most. Gentle, tender-hearted as 
she is, she is more inexorable than Mrs. Yocomb. 
Jt’s a little strange, but I doubt whether there is 


350 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


anything in the universe that so inspires a man 
with awe as a thoroughly good, large-minded 
woman.” 

I could not sleep that afternoon, and at last I 
became so weary of the conflict between my hope 
and fear that I was glad to hear Miss Warren at the 
piano, playing softly some old English hymns. 
The day was growing cool and shadowy, but I hoped 
that before it passed I might get a chance to say 
something to her which would give a different aspect 
to the concluding words of Mrs. Yocomb’s sermon. 
I had determined no longer to avoid her society, 
but rather to seek it, whenever I could in the pres- 
ence of others, and especially of her affianced. 
They had returned from a long afternoon in the 
arbor, which I knew must occasion Miss Warren 
some unpleasant thoughts, and the banker was sit- 
ting on the piazza chatting with Adah. 

I strolled into the parlor with as easy and natural 
a manner as I could assume, and taking my old seat 
by the window, said quietly, ” Please go on playing, 
Miss Warren.” 

She turned on me one of 'her swift looks, which 
always gave me the impression that she saw all that 
was in my mind. Her color rose a little, but she 
continued playing for a time. Then with her right 
hand evoking low, sweet chords, she asked, with a 
conciliatory smile, 

” Have you been thinking over Mrs. Yocomb's 
words this afternoon ?” 

” Not all the time — no. Have you ?” 

” How could I all the time ?” 


LOVE TEACHING ETHICS. 351 

** Oh, I think you can do anything under heaven 
you make up your mind to do/’ I said, with a slight 
laugh. The look she gave now was a little appre- 
hensive, and I added hastily, Tve had one 
thought that I don’t mind telling you, for I think 
it may be a pleasant one, though it must recall that 
which is painful. The thought occurred to me when 
Mrs. Yocomb was speaking, and since, that your 
brother had perfect peace as he stood in that line 
of battle.” 

She turned eagerly toward me, and tears rushed 
into her eyes. 

“You may be right,” she said, in a low, tremu- 
lous tone. 

“ Well, I feel sure I’m right. I know it, if he was 
anything like you.” 

“ Oh, then I doubt it. I’m not at all brave as 
he was. You ought to know that.” 

“ You have the courage that a veteran general 
most values in a soldier. You might be half dead 
from terror, but you wouldn’t runaway. Besides,” 
I added, smiling, “ you would not be afraid of shot 
and shell, only the noise of a battle. In this respect 
your brother, no doubt, differed from you. In the 
grand consciousness of right, and in his faithful per- 
formance of duty, I believe his face was as serene as 
the aspect of Mr. Yocomb when he looked at the 
coming storm. As far as peace is concerned, his 
heaven began on earth. I envy him.” 

“ Mr. Morton, I thank you for these words about 
my brother,” she said very gently, and with a little 
pathetic quaver in her voice, “ They have given 


352 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


me a comforting association with that awful day. 
Oh, I thank God for the thought. Remembering 
what Mrs. Yocomb said, it reconciles me to it all, 
as I never thought I could be reconciled. If Her- 
bert believed that it was his duty to be there, it 
was best he should be there. How strange it is 
that you should think of this first, and not I !” 

“ Will you pardon me if I take exception to one 
thing you say. I do not think it follows that he 
ought to have been there simply because he felt it 
right, to be there.” 

“ Why, Mr. Morton ! ought one not to do right 
at any and every cost ? That seemed to me the 
very pith of Mrs. Yocomb’s teaching, and I think 
she made it clear that it’s always best to do right.” 

I think so too, most emphatically ; but what is 
right, Miss Warren ?” 

“ That’s too large a question for me to answer in 
the abstract ; but is not the verdict of conscience 
right for each one of us?” 

“I can’t think so,” I replied, with a shrug. 

“ About every grotesque, horrible act ever com- 
mitted in this world has been sanctioned by con- 
science. Delicate women have worn hair-cloth and 
walked barefooted on cold pavements in midnight 
penance. The devil is scarcely more cruel than the 
Church, for ages, taught that God was. It’s true 
that Christ’s life was one of self-sacrifice ; but was 
there any useless, mistaken self-sacrifice in it ? If 
God is anything like Mrs. Yocomb, nothing could 
be more repugnant to him than blunders of this 

kind*" 


LOVE TEACHING ETHICS. 353 

She looked at me with a startled face, and I saw 
that my words had unsettled her mind. 

J* If con science cannot guide, what can ?” she 
faltered. ^^Is'‘fr6t' God’s voice within 
us?” 

“ No^ Conscience may become God's worst 
enemy — that is, any God that I could worship or 
even respect. ’ ’ 

“ Mr. Morton, you frighten me. How can I do 
right unless I follow my conscience ?” 

“ Yes,” I said sadly, “ you would, in the good old 
times, have followed it over stony pavements, in 
midnight penance, or now into any thorny path 
which it pointed out ; and I believe that many such 
paths lead away from the God of whom Mrs. Yo- 
comb spoke to-day. Miss Warren, I’m a man of 
the world, and probably you think my views on 
these subjects are not worth much. It’s strange 
that your own nature does not suggest to you the 
only sure guide. It seems to me that conscience 
should always go to truth for instructions. The 
men who killed your brother thought they were 
right as truly as he did ; but history will prove that 
they were wrong, as so many sincere people have 
been in every age. He did not suffer and die useless- 
ly, for the truth was beneath his feet and in his heart. 

“ Dear, brave, noble Herbert !” she sighed. 

Oh that God had spared him to me !” 

“ I wish he had,” I said, with quiet emphasis. 
“ I wish he was with you here and now.” 

Again she gave me a questioning, troubled look 
through her tears. 


354 


A DA V OF FA TE. 


“ Then you believe truth to be absolutely bind 
ing she asked, in a low voice. 

F “ Yes. In science, religion, ethics, or human 
action, nothing can last — nothing can end well that 
is not built squarely on truth.” 

She became very pale ; but she turned quietly 
to her piano as she said, 

” You are right, Mr. Morton ; there can be no 
peace— not even self-respect — without truth. My 
nature would be pitiful indeed did it not teach me 
that.” 

She had interpreted my words in a way that in- 
tensified the influence of Mrs. Yocomb's sermon. 
To be false to the trust that she had led her affi- 
anced to repose in her still seemed the depth of 
degradation. I feared that she would take this 
view at first, but believed, if my hope had any 
foundation, she would think my words over so 
often that she would discover a different meaning. 

And my hope was strengthened. If she loved 
Mr. Hearn, why did she turn, pale and quiet, to her 
piano, which had always appeared a refuge to her, 
when I had seemingly spoken words that not only 
sanctioned but made the course which harmonized 
with her love imperative. Even the possibility that 
i;i the long days and nights of my delirium I had 
unconsciously wooed and won her heart, so thrilled 
and overcame me that I dared not trust myself 
longer in her presence, and I went out on the 
piazza — a course eminently satisfactory to Mr. 
Hearn, no doubt. I think he regarded our inter- 
view as becoming somewhat extended. He had 



She turned quietly to her Piano. 







LOVE TEACHING ETHICS. 


355 


glanced at me from time xo time, but my manner 
had been too quiet to disturb him, and he could 
not see Miss Warren’s face. The words he over- 
heard suggested a theological discussion rather than 
anything of a personal nature. It had been very 
reassuring to see Miss Warren turn from me as if 
my words had ceased to interest her, and my 
coming out to talk with Adah confirmed the im- 
pression made by my manner all along, that we 
were not very congenial spirits. It also occurred 
to me that he did not find chatting with Adah a 
very heavy cross, for never had she looked prettier 
than on that summer evening. But now that Miss 
Warren was alone he went in and sat down by her, 
saying so loudly that I could not help hearing him, 
as I stood by the window, 

“ I think you must have worsted Mr. Morton in 
your theological discussion, for he came out look- 
ing as if he had a great deal to think about that was 
not exactly to his taste ; but Miss Adah will — ” and 
then his companion began playing something that 
drowned his voice. 


CHAPTER XV. 

“don’t think of me.“ 

RS. YOCOMB appeared at supper, serene 



IVX and cheerful ; but she was paler than usual, 
and she still looked like one who had but just de- 
scended from a lofty spiritual height. No refer- 
ence whatever was made to the morning. Mrs. 
Yocomb no longer spoke on religious themes 
directly, but she seemed to me the Gospel em- 
bodied, as with natural kindly grace she presided 
at her home table. Her husband beamed on her, 
and looked, as if his cup was overflowing. Reu- 
ben’s frank, boyish eyes often turned toward her 
in their simple devotion, while Zillah, who sat next 
to her, had many a whispered confidence to give. 
Adah’s accent was gentle and her manner thought- 
ful. Miss Warren looked at her from time to time 
with a strange wistfulness — looked as if the matron 
possessed a serenity and peace that she coveted. 

“ Emily,’’ said Mr. Yocomb, “ thee doesn’t think 
music’s wicked, does thee ?’’ 

“ No, sir, nor do you either.’’ 

“ What does thee think of that, mother.^’’ 

“ I think Emily converted thee over to her side 
before she had been here two days.’’ 

“ Thee’s winked very hard at my apostasy, 
mother. I’m inclined to think thee was converted 
too, on the third or fourth day, if thee’d own up.’’ 

“No,” said Mrs. Yocomb, with a smile at her 


DON'T THINK OF ME. 


357 


tavorite, “ Emily won my heart on the first day, 
and I accepted piano and all. ' 

“ Why, Mrs. Yocomb !” I exclaimed — for I 
could not forego the chance to vindicate myself — 
‘ I never considered you a precipitate, ill-balanced 
person.” 

Miss Warren’s cheeks were scarlet, and I saw 
that she understood me well. I think Mrs. Yocomb 
guessed my meaning, too, for her smile was a 
little peculiar as she remarked demurely, “ Women 
are different from men : they know almost imme- 
'^lately whether they like a person or not. I liked 
thee in half a day.” 

“ You like sinners on principle, Mrs. Yocomb. I 
think it was my general depravity and heathenism 
that won your regard.” 

“ No, as a woman I liked thee. Thee isn’t as 
bad .as thee seems.” 

“ Mr. Yocomb, I hope you don’t object to this, 
for I must assure you most emphatically that I 
don’t.” 

“ Mother’s welcome to love thee all she pleases,” 
said the old gentleman, laughing. “ Indeed, I 
think I egg her on to it.” 

“ Good friends,” said Miss Warren, with her old 
mirthful look, “you’ll turn Mr. Morton’s head; 
you should be more considerate.” 

“ I am indeed bewildered. Miss Warren’s keen 
eyes have detected my weak point.” 

“A man with so stout a heart,” Mr. Hearn 
began, “could well afford — ” and then he hesi- 
tated. 


358 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


“ To be weak-headed/' I said, finishing his sen- 
tence. “ I fear you are mistaken, sir. I can't 
afford it at all. ” 

“ Thee was clear-headed enough to get around 
mother in half an hour," said the old gentleman 
again, laughing heartily. " It took me several 
months." 

" Thee was a little blind, father. I wasn’t going 
to let thee see how much I thought of thee till I 
had kept thee waiting a proper time." 

" That’s rich !" I cried, and I laughed as I had 
not since my illness. " How long is a proper 
time, Mrs. Yocomb I remember being once told 
that a woman was a mystery that a man could 
never solve. I fear it’s true." 

" Who told you that .^" asked Mr. Hearn ; for I 
think he noticed my swift glance at Miss Warren, 
who looked a little conscious. 

"As I think of it, I may have read it in a 
newspaper," I said demurely. 

"I’m not flattered by your poor memory, Mr. 
Morton," remarked Miss Warren quietly. " I 
told you that myself when you were so mystified 
by my fearlessness of Dapple and my fear of the 
cow." 

" Tve learned that my memory is sadly treach- 
erous, Miss Warren." 

" A man who is treacherous only in memory may 
well be taken as a model," remarked Mr. Hearn 
benignly. 

" Would you say that of one who forgot to pay 
you his debts ?" 


DON'T Till NIC OF ME. 


359 


“ What do you owe me, Mr. Morton ?” 

“ rm sure I don’t know. Good-will, I suppose 
Mrs. Yocomb would suggest.” 

” Well, sir, I feel that I owe you a great deal ; 
perhaps more than I realize, as I recall your prompt- 
ness on that memorable night of the storm.” 

” I was prompt — I’ll admit that,” I said grimly^ 
looking at the ceiling. 

” Mr. Yocomb, how long would it have taken 
the house to burn up if the fire had not been extin- 
guished ?” Mr. Hearn asked. 

” The interior,” replied Mr. Yocomb very 
gravely, “ would all have been in flames in a very 
few moments, for it's old and dry.” 

“ Ugh !” exclaimed Adah, shudderingly. “ Rich- 
ard — ” 

I put my finger on my lips. “ Miss Adah,” I 
interrupted, I’d rather be struck by lightning 
than hear any more about that night.” 

“Yes,” said Miss Warren desperately, “ I wish 
• I could forget that night forever.” 

“ I never wish to forget the expression on your 
face. Miss Warren, when we knew Zillah was alive. 
If that didn’t please God, nothing in this world 
ever did.” 

“ Oh, hush !” she cried. 

“ Emily, I think you cannot have told me all 
that happened.” 

“ I can’t think of it any more,” she said ; and 
her face was full of trouble. “ I certainly don’t 
know, and have never thought how I looked.” 

“ Mr. Morton seems to have been cool enough 


360 A PAY OF FA TE. 

to have been very observant,” said the banker 
keenly. 

” I was wet enough to be cool, sir. Miss War- 
ren said I was not fit to be seen, and the doctor 
bundled me out of the room, fearing I would 
frighten Zillah into hysterics. Hey, Zillah ! what 
do you think of that ?” 

” I think the doctor was silly. I wouldn’t be 
afraid of thee any more than of Emily.” 

” Please let us talk and think of something else,” 
Miss Warren pleaded. 

” I don’t want to forget what I owe to Richard,” 
said Reuben a little indignantly. I trod on his foot 
under the table. ” Thee needn’t try to stop me, 
Richard Morton,” continued the boy passionately. 
” I couldn’t have got mother out alone, and I’d 
never left her. Where would we be, Emily Warren, 
if it hadn’t been for Richard ?” 

” In heaven,” I said, laughing, for I was deter- 
mined to prevent a scene. 

” Well, I hope so,” Reuben muttered ; ” but I 
don’t mind being in mother’s dining-room.” 

Even Mrs. Yocomb’s gravity gave way at this 
speech. 

As we rose from the table, Zillah asked inno- 
cently, 

” Emily, is thee crying or laughing?” 

” I hardly know myself,” she faltered, and went 
hastily to her room ; but she soon came down 
again, looking very resolute. 

” Emily,” said Mr. Yocomb, “since thee and 
mother doesn’t think music’s wicked, I have a 


Don' t think of me. 


3^1 


wondeiful desire to hear thee sing again, ‘ Tell me 
the Old, Old Story,’ as thee did on the night of the 
storm.” 

In spite of her brave eyes and braver will, her 
V lip trembled. 


I was cruel enough to add, ” And I would be glad 
to listen to the Twelfth Nocturne once more.” 

For some reason she gave me a swift glance full 
of reproach. 


” I will listen to anything,” I said quickly. 

Mr. Hearn looked a little like a man who feared 


: that there might be subterranean fires beneath hia 

'' feet. 

” I will not promise more than to be chorister 
to-night,” she said, sitting down to the piano with 
her back toward us. ” Let us have familiar hymns 
that all can sing. Miss Adah has a sweet voice, 
and' Mr. Morton, no doubt, is hiding his talent in a 
napkin. There’s a book for you, sir. I’m sorry it 
doesn’t contain the music.” 

” It doesn’t matter,” I said ; “I’m equally 
familiar with Choctaw.” 

” Adela and Zillah, you come and stand by me. 
Your little voices are like the birds’.” 

We all gathered in the old parlor, and spent an 
hour that I shall never forget. I had a tolerable 
tenor, and an ear made fairly correct by hearing 
much music. Mr. Hearn did not sing, but he 
seemingly entered into the spirit of the occasion. 
Before very long Miss Warren and I were singing 
some things together. Mr. Hea^n no doubt com- 
pared our efforts unfavorably witi* what he had 


A DAY OF FATE, 


362 

heard in the city, but the simple people of the 
farm-house were much pleased, and repeatedly ' 
asked us to continue. As I was leaning over Miss 
Warren’s shoulder, finding a place in the hymn^ 
book on the stand, she breathed softly, 

“ Have you told them you are going to-mor- 
row ?” 

“ No,” I replied. 

” Can you leave such friends ?” 

“Yes.” 

” You ought not. It would hurt them cruelly 
and she made some runs on the piano to hide her 
words. 

” li you say I ought not to go. I’ll stay — Ah, 
this is the one I was looking for, ” I said, in a matter- 
of-fact tone ; but she played the music with some 
strange slips and errors ; her hands were nervous 
and trembling, and never was the frightened look 
that I had seen before more distinctly visible. 

After we had sung a stanza or two she rose and 
said, ” I think I’m getting a little tired, and the 
room seems warm. Wouldn’t you like to take a 
walk?” she asked Mr. Hearn, coming over to his 
side. 

He arose with alacrity, and they passed out 
together. I did not see her again that night. 

^The next morning, finding me alone for a mo- 
ment, she approached hesitatingly and said, 

” I don’t think I ought to judge for you.” 

” Do you wish me to go ?” I asked sadly, inter- 
preting her thought. 

She became very pale, and turned away as she 


DON'T THINK OF ME. 363 

replied, “ Perhaps you had better. I think you 
would rather go.” 

” No, I’d rather stay ; but I’ll do as you wish.” 

She did not reply, and went quickly to her piano. 

I turned and entered the dining-room where Mrs. 
Yocomb and Adah were clearing away the break- 
fast. Mr. Yocomb was writing in his little office 
adjoining. 

‘‘ I think it is time I said good-by and went 
back to New York.” 

In the outcry that followed. Miss Warren’s piano 
became silent. 

” Richard Morton !” Mrs. Yocomb began almost 
indignantly, ” if thee hasn’t any regard for thyself, 
thee should have some for thy friends. Thee isn’t 
fit to leave home, and this is thy home now. Thee 
doesn’t call thy hot rooms in New York home, so 
I don’t see as thee has got any other. Just so sure 
as thee goes back to New York now, thee’ll be sick 
again. I won’t hear to it. Thee’s just beginning 
to improve a little.” 

Adah looked at me through reproachful tears, but 
she did not say anything. Mr. Yocomb dropped 
his pen and came out, looking quite excited. 

” I’ll send for Doctor Bates and have him lay his 
commands on thee,” he said. ” I won’t take 
thee to the depot, and thee isn’t able to walk half 
way there. Here, Emily, come and talk reason to 
this crazy man. He says he’s going back to New 
York. He ought to be put in a strait-jacket. 
Doesn’t thee think so ?” 

Her laugh was anything but simple and natural. 


3^4 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


As she said “ I do indeed,” Mr. Hearn had 
joined her. 

“ What would thee do in such an extreme case 
of mental disorder?” 

“ Treat him as they did in the good old times : 
get a chain and lock him up on bread and water.” 

“ Would thee then enjoy thy dinner?” 

“ That wouldn’t matter, if he were cured.” 

“ I think Mr. Morton would prefer hot New York 
to the remedies that Emily prescribes,” said Mr. 
Hearn, with his smiling face full of vigilance. 

“ Richard,” said Mrs. Yocomb, putting both her 
hands on my arm, “ I should feel more hurt than I 
can tell thee if thee leaves us now.” 

“ Why, Mrs. Yocomb ! I didn’t think you would 
care so much.” 

“ Then thee’s very blind, Richard. I didn’t think 
thee’d say that. ” 

“ You cut deep now ; suppose I must go ?” 

“ Why must thee go, just as thee is beginning tc 
gain ? Thee is as pale as a ghost this minute, and 
thee doesn’t weigh much more than half as much 
as I do. Still, we don’t want to put an unwelcome 
constraint on thee.” 

I took her hand in both ot mine as I .said ear- 
nestly, “ God forbid that I should ever escape from 
any constraint that you put upon me. Well, I won’t 
go to-day, and I’ll see what word my mail brings 
me.” And I went up to my room, not trusting 
myself to glance at the real controller of my ac- 
tion, but hoping that something would occur which 
would make my course clear, 


DON'T THINK OF ME. 365 

As I came out of my room to go down to dinner, 
Miss Warren intercepted me, saying eagerly, 

“ Mr. Morton, don’t go. If you should be ill 
again in New York, as Mrs. Yocomb says — ” 

“ I won’t be ill again.” 

“Please don’t go,” she entreated. “I — I 
shouldn’t have said what I did. You would be ill ; 
Mrs. Yocomb would never forgive me.” 

“ Miss Warren, I will do what you wish.” 

“ I wish what is best for you — only that.” 

“ I fear I cloud your happiness. You are too 
kind-hearted.” 

She smiled a little bitterly. ” Please stay — don’t 
think of me.” 

“ Again, I repeat, you are too kind-hearted. 
Never imagine that I can be happy if you are not 
and I looked at her keenly, but she turned away 
instantly, saying, 

“ Well, then. I’ll be very happy, and will test 
you,” and she returned to her room. 

“Mrs. Yocomb,”! said quietly at the dinner- 
table, “ I’ve written to the office saying that my 
friends do not think I’m well enough to return yet, 
and asking to have my leave extended.” 

She beamed upon me as she replied, 

“ Now thee’s sensible.” 

“ For once,” I added. 

“ I expect to see thee clothed and in thy right 
mind yet,” she said, with a little reassuring 
nod. 

“ Your hopeful disposition is contagious,” I re- 
plied, laughing. 


366 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ rd like to see thee get to the depot till we’re 
ready to let thee go/’ said Reuben emphatically. 

“Yes,” added Mr. Yocomb, with his genuine 
laugh, “ Reuben and I are in league against thee. ” 

“ You look like two dark, muttering conspirators,” 
I responded. 

“ And to think thee was going away without ask- 
ing me !” Zillah put in, shaking her bright curls at 
me. 

“ Well, you all have made this home to me, true 
enough. The best part of me will be left here 
when I do go.” 

At these words Adah gave me a shy, blushing 
smile. 

“ Mr. Morton, will you please pass me the vine- 
gar,” said Miss Warren, in the most matter-of-fact 
tone. 

“ Wouldn’t you prefer the sugar ?” I asked. 

“ No ; I much prefer the vinegar.” 

^Mr. Hearn also smiled approvingly. 

“ Don’t be too sure of your prey,” I said men- 
tally. “ If she’s not yours at heart — which I doubt 
more than ever — you shall never have her. But 
she puzzled me for a day or two. If she were not 
happy she simulated happiness, and made my 
poor acting a flimsy pretence in contrast'. She and 
the banker took long rides together, and she was 
always exceedingly cheerful on her return — a little 
too much so, I tried to think. She ignored the 
past as completely as possible, and while her man- 
ner was kind to me she had regained her old-time 
delicate brusqueness, and rarely lost a chance to give 


DON'T THINK OF ME, 


367 


me a friendly fillip. Indeed I had never known 
her to be so brilliant, and her spirits seemed un- 
flagging. Mr. Yocomb was delighted, and in his 
large appetite for fun applauded and joined in every 
phase of our home gayety. There was too much 
h^arity for me, and my hope failed steadily. 

“ Now that her conscience is clear in regard to me 
—now that I have remained in the country, and am 
getting well — her spirits have come up with a bound, ’ ' 
I reasoned moodily. I began to resume my old tac- 
tics of keeping out of the way and of taking long 
rambles ; but I tried to be cheerfulness itself in her 
presence. 

On Wednesday Miss Warren came down to break- 
fast in a breezy, airy way, and, scarcely speaking to 
me as I stood in the doorway, she flitted out, and 
was soon romping with Zillah and Adela. As she 
returned, flushed and panting, I said, with a smile, 

“ You are indeed happy. I congratulate you. I 
believe I’ve never had the honor of doing that yet.” 

“ But you said that you would be happy also ?” 

“Am I not?” 

“No.” 

“ Well, it doesn’t matter, since you are.” 

“ Oh, then, I’m no longer kind-hearted. You 
t^ke Reuben’s view, that I’m a heartless mon- 
ster. He scarcely speaks to me any more. You 
think I propose to be happy now under all circum- 
stances. ” 

“ I wish you would be ; I hope you may be. 
What’s the use of my acting my poor little farce 
any longer. I don’t deceive you a mite. But I’m 


368 


A DAY OF* FATE. 


not going to rrope and pine, Miss Warren. Don t 
think of me so poorly as that. I’m not the first 
man who has had to face this thing. I’m going 
back to work, and I am going next Monday, surely.” 

“ I’ve no doubt of it,” she said, with sudden bit 
terness, “ and you’ll get over it bravely, very 
bravely and she started off toward the barn, where 
Reuben was exercising Dapple, holding him with a 
long rope. The horse seemed wild with life and 
spirit, and did I not know that the beautiful creat- 
ure had not a vicious trait I should have feared 
for the boy. Just at this moment. Dapple in his 
play slipped off his headstall and was soon career- 
ing around the dooryard in the mad glee of free- 
dom. In vain Reuben tried to catch him ; for the 
capricious beast would allow him to come almost 
within grasp, and then would bound away. Miss 
Warren stood under a tree laughing, till the boy 
was hot and angry. Then she cried, 

“ I’ll catch him for you, Reuben.’' 

I uttered a loud shout of alarm as she darted out 
before the galloping horse and threw up her arms. 

Dapple stopped instantly ; in another second she 
had her arm around his arched neck and was strok- 
ing his quivering nostrils. Her poise was full of 
grace and power ; her eyes were shining with excite- 
ment and triumph, and to make her mastery seem 
more complete, she leaned her face against his nose. 

Dapple looked down at her in a sort of mild 
wonder, and was as meek as a lamb. 

“There, Reuben, come and take hitn,” she said 
to the boy, who stared at her with his mouth open. 


DON T THINK OF ME. 369 

r 

Emily Warren, I don’t know what to make of 
’ thee,” he exclaimed. 

Never before had I so felt my unutterable loss, 
and I said to her almost savagely, in a low tone, as 
she approached, 

“ Is that the means you take to cure me — doing 
the bravest thing I ever saw a woman do, and look- 
ing like a goddess ? I was an unspeakable fool for 
staying.” 

Her head drooped, and she walked dejectedly 
toward the house, not seeming to think of or care for 
the exclamations and expostulations which greeted 
her. 

“ Why, Emily, were you mad ?” cried Mr. Hearn 
above the rest ; and now that the careering horse 
was being led away he hastened down to meet her. 

“ No, I’m tired, and want a cup of coffee,” I 
heard her say, and then I followed Reuben to the 
barn. 

“ She’s cut me out with Dapple,” said the boy, 
with a crestfallen air. 

Already I repented of my harshness, into which I 
had been led by the sharpest stress of feeling, and 
was eager to make amends. Since the night of the 
storm honest Reuben had given me his unwavering 
loyalty. Still less than Adah was he inclined or 
able to look beneath the surface of things, and he 
had gained the impression from Miss Warren’s 
words that she was inclined to make light of their 
danger on that occasion, and to laugh at me gen- 
erally. In his sturdy championship in my behalf 
he .he,d been growing cold and brusque toward one 


370 


A DAY OF FATE. 


whom he now associated with the wealthy middle- 
aged banker, and city style generally. Reuben was 
a genuine country lad, and was instinctively hostile 
to Fifth Avenue. While Mr. Hearn was polite to his 
father and mother, he quite naturally laid more 
stress, on their business relations than on those of 
friendship, and was not slow in asking for what he 
wanted, and his luxurious tastes led him to require a 
good deal. Reuben had seen his mother worried and 
his father inconvenienced not a little. They made 
no complaint, and had no cause for any, for the 
banker paid his way liberally. But the boy had iv. t 
reached the age when the financial phase of the ques- 
tion was appreciated, and his prejudice was not un- 
natural, for unconsciously, especially at first, Mr. 
Hearn had treated them all as inferiors. He no\v 
was learning to know them better, however. Theie 
was nothing plebeian in Adah's beauty, and he would 
have been untrue to himself had he not admired 
her very greatly. 

It was my wish to lead the boy to overcome his 
prejudice against Miss Warren ; so I said, 

“ You are mistaken, Reuben ; Dapple is just as fond 
of you as ever. It was only playfulness that made 
him cut up so ; but, Reuben, Dapple is a very sen- 
sible horse, and when he saw a girl that was brave 
enough to stand right out before him when it 
seemed that he must run over her, he respect- 
ed and liked such a girl at once. It was the bravest 
thing I ever saw. Any other horse would have 
trampled on her, but Dapple has the nature of a 
gentleman. So have you, Reuben, and I know 


DON'T THINK OF ME. 


371 


you will go and speak handsomely to her. I know 
you will speak to her as Dapple would could he 
speak. By Jove ! it was splendid, and you are man 
enough to know it was.” 

“ Yes, Richard, it was. I know that as well as 
thee. There isn t a girl in the county that would 
have dared to do it, and very few men. And to 
think she’s a city girl! To tell the truth, Emily 
Warren is all the time making game of thee, and 
that’s why I’m mad at her.” 

“ I don’t think you understand her. I don’t 
mind it, because she never means anything ill-na- 
tured ; and then she loves your mother almost 
as much as you do. I give you my word, Reuben, 
Miss Warren and I are the best of friends, and you 
need not feel as you do, because I don't. 

“ Oh, well, if thee puts it that way. Til treat her 
different. I tell thee what it is, Richard, I’m one 
that sticks to my friends through thick and thin.” 

“ Well, you can’t do anything so friendly to me 
as to make everything pleasant for Miss Warren. 
How is her favorite. Old Plod?” I asked, follow- 
ing him into the barn. 

“ Old Plod be hanged ! She hasn’t been near 
Jnm in two weeks.” 

** Wha t !” I exclaimed exultantly. 

’* What’s the matter with thee, Richard ? Thee 
and Emily are both queer. I can’t make you out.” 

“ WelJ^ Reuben, we mean well ; you mustn’t ex- 
pect too much of people.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

“RICHARD.” 

I CA ME in to breakfast with Reuben, feeling that 
Dapple had been more of a gentleman than I 
had, for he had treated the maiden with gentleness 
and courtesy, while I had thought first of myself. 
She looked up at me as I entered so humbly and 
deprecatingly that I wished that I had bitten my 
tongue out rather than have spoken so harshly. 

Straightforward Reuben went to the girl, and, 
holding out his hand, said, 

“ Emily, I want to ask thy forgiveness. Tve 
been like a bear toward thee. Thee’s the bravest 
girl I ever saw. No country girl would have dared 
to do what thee did. I didn’t need to have 
Richard lecture me and tell me that ; but I thought 
thee was kind of down on Richard, and I’ve a way 
of standing by my friends.” 

With a face like a peony she turned and took 
both of the boy’s hands as she said warmly, 

“ Thank you, Reuben. Td take a much greater 
risk to win your friendship, and if you’ll give it to 
me I’ll be very proud of it. You are going to make 
a genuine man.” 

“Yes, Reuben, thee’Il make a man,” said his 
mother, with a low laugh. “ Thee is as blind as a 
man already.” 

I looked at her instantly, but she dropped her eyes 


•^JilCHARDr 


3^3 


demurely to her plate. I saw that Mr. Hearn was 
watching me, and so did not look at Miss Warren. 

“Well,” said he irritably, “I don’t like such 
escapades ; and Emily, if anything of the kind hap- 
pens again. I’ll have to take you to a safer place.’* 

His face was flushed, but hers was very pale. 

“ It won’t happen again,” she said quietly, with- 
out looking up. 

“ Richard,” said Mr. Yocomb, as if glad to change 
the subject, “ I’ve got to drive across the country 
on some business. I will have to be gone all day. 
Would thee like to go with me ?” 

“ Certainly. I’ll go with you to the ends of the 
earth.” 

“ That would be too far away from mother. 
Thee^ always pulls me back very soon, doesn’t 
thee?” 

“Well, I know thee comes,” replied his wife. 
“ Don’t tire Richard out ; he isn’t strong yet.” 

“ Richard,” said Mr. Yocomb, as we were driv- 
ing up a long hill, “ I want to congratulate thee on 
thy course toward Emily Warren. Thee’s a strong- 
minded, sensible man. I saw that thee was greatly 
taken with her at first, and no wonder. Besides, I 
couldn’t help hearing what thee said when out of 
thy mind. Mother and I kept the children away 
then, and Doctor Bates had the wink from me to 
be discreet ; but thee’s been a sensible man since 
thee got up, and put the whole thing away from 
thee very bravely.” 

“ Mr. Yocomb, I won’t play the hypocrite with 
you. I love her better than my own soul.” 


374 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ Thee does?” he said, in strong surprise. 

“ Yes, and I ought to have gone away long ago, 
I fear. How could I see her as she appeared this 
morning, and not almost worship her ?” 

“The old gentleman gave a long, low whistle. “ I 
guess mother meant me when she said men were 
■ blind.” 

I was silent, not daring, of course, to say that I 
hoped she meant me, but what I had heard and 
seen that morning had done much to confirm my 
hope. 

“ Well,” said the old gentleman, “ I can scarcely 
blame thee, since she is what she is, and I can’t 
help saying, too, that I think thee would make her 
happier than that man can, with all his money. I 
don’t think he appreciates her. She will be only a 
part of his great possessions.” 

“ Well, Mr. Yocomb, I’ve but these requests to 
make. Keep this to yourself, and don’t interpose 
any obstacles to my going next Monday. Don’t 
worry about me. I’ll keep up ; and a man who will 
have to work as I must won’t have time to mope. 
I won’t play the weak fool, for I’d rather have your 
respect and Mrs. Yocomb’s than all Mr. Hearn’r 
millions ; and Miss Warren’s respect is absolutely 
essential to me.” 

“ Then thee thinks that mother and — and Emily 
know ?” 

“ Who can hide anything from such women 1 
They look through us as if we were glass.” 

“ Mother’s sermon meant more for thee than I 
thought.” 


“ I char'd:' 


375 


Yes, I felt as if it were preached for me. I 
hope I may be the better for it some day ; but 
I ve too big a fight on my hands now to do much 
else. You will now understand why I wish to get 
away so soon, and why I can’t come back till I’ve 
gained a strength that is not bodily. I wouldn’t 
like you to misunderstand me, after your marvellous 
kindness, and so I’m frank. Besides, you’re the 
kind of man that would thaw an icicle. Your na- 
ture is large and gentle, and I don’t mind letting 
you know.” 

” Richard, we’re getting very frank, and I’m 
going to be more so. I don’t like the way Mr. 
Hearn sits and looks at Adah.” 

” Oh, you needn’t worry about him. Mr. Hearn 
is respectability itself ; but he’s wonderfully fond 
of good things and pretty things. His great house 
on Fifth Avenue is full of them, and he looks at 
Miss Adah as he would at a fine oil painting.” 

” Thee speaks charitably of him under the cir- 
cumstances.” 

” I ought to try to do him justice, since I hate 
him so cordially.” 

” Well,” said the old gentleman, laughing, ” that’s 
a new wa}^of putting it. Thee’s honest, Richard.” 

” If I wasn’t I’d have no business in your soci- 
ety.” 

“I’m worried about Emily,” broke out my com- 
panion. ” She was a little thin and worn from 
her long season of work when she came to us lately ; 
but the first week she picked up daily. While 
thee was so sick she seemed more worried than any 


376 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


one, and I had much ado to get her to eat enough 
to keep a bird alive ; but it’s been worse for the 
last two weeks. She has seemed much brighter 
lately for some reason, but the flesh just seems to 
drop off of her. She takes a wonderful hold of my 
feelings, and I can’t help troubling about her.” 

“ Mr. Yocomb, your words torture me,” I cried. 
“ It is not my imagination then. Can she love that 
man?” ^ 

“ Well, she has a queer way of showing it ; but 
it is one of those things that an outsider can’t med- 
dle with.” 

I was moody and silent the rest of the day, and 
Mr. Yocomb had the tact to leave me much to my- 
self ; but I was not under the necessity of acting 
my poor farce before him. 

The evening was quite well advanced when we 
reached the farm-house ; but Mrs. Yocomb had a 
royal supper for us, and she said every one had in- 
sisted on waiting till we returned. Mr. Hearn had 
quite recovered his complacency, and I gathered 
from this fact that Miss Warren had been very de- 
voted. Such was his usual aspect when every- 
thing was pleasing to him. But she who had 
added so much to his life had seemingly drained 
her own, for she looked so pale and thin that my 
heart ached. There were dark lines under her 
eyes, and she appeared exceedingly wearied, as if 
the day had been one long effort. 

“ She can’t love him,” I thought. “ It’s impos- 
sible. Confound him ! he’s the blindest man of us 
all. Oh that I had her insight, that I might unravel 



RICHARD. 


377 


this snarl at once, for it would kill me to see her 
looking like that much longer. What’s the use of my 
going away } I’ve been away all day ; she has had 
ihe light of his smiling countenance uninterrupted- 
ly, and see how worn she is. Can it be that my hate- 
ful words hurt her, and that she is grieving about 
me only ? It’s impossible. Unselfish regard for 
another could not go so far if her own heart was at 
rest. She is doing her best to laugh and talk and 
to seem cheerful, but her acting now is poorer than 
mine ever was. She is tired out ; she seems like a 
soldier who is fighting mechanically after spirit, 
courage, and strength are gone. 

Mr. Hearn informed Mr. Yocomb that important 
business would require his presence in New York 
for a few days. “ It’s an enterprise that involves im- 
mense interests on both sides of the ocean, and 
there’s to be quite a gathering of capitalists. Your 
paper will be full of it before very long, Mr. Mor- 
ton. ” 

“ I’m always glad to hear of any grist for our 
mill,” I said. “ Mrs. Yocomb, please excuse me. 
I’m selfish enough to prefer the cool piazza.” 

“ But thee hasn’t eaten anything.” 

“Oh, yes, I have, and I made a huge dinner,” 

I replied carelessly, and sauntered out and lighted 
a cigar. Instead of coming out on the piazza, as 
I hoped. Miss Warren bade Mr. Hearn good- 
night in the hall, and, pleading fatigue, went to her 
room. 

She was down to see him off in the morning, and 
at his request accompanied him to the depot. J 


37 ^ 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


was reading on the piazza when she returned, and I 
hastened to assist her from the rockaway. 

“ Miss Warren,” I exclaimed, in deep solicitude, 
“ this long, hot ride has been too much for you/ ’ 

“ Perhaps it has,” she replied briefly, without 
meeting my eyes. “ Til go and rest.” 

She pleaded a headache, and did not come down 
to dinner. Mrs. Yocomb returned from her room 
with a troubled face. 

I had resolved that I would not seek to see her 
alone while Mr. Hearn was away, and so resumed 
my long rambles. When I returned, about supper 
time, she was sitting on the piazza watching Adela 
and Zillah playing with their dolls. She did not 
look up as I took a seat on the steps not far away. 

At last I began, “ Can I tell you that 1 am very 
sorry you have been ill to-day ?” 

I wasn't dangerous, as country people say,” she 
replied, a little brusquely. 

“You look as if Dapple might run over you 
now. 

‘ ‘ A kitten might run over me, ”she replied briefly, 
still keeping her eyes on the children. 

By and by she asked, ” Why do you look at me 
so intently, Mr. Morton?” 

” I beg your pardon.” 

” That's not answering my question.” 

” Suppose I deny that I was looking at you. 
You have not condescended to glance at me yet.” 

‘‘You had better not deny it.” 

” Well, then, to tell you the truth, as I find I al- 
ways must, I was looking for some trace of mercy. I 


* J^ICH A RD.' 


379 


was thinking whether I could venture to ask for- 
giveness for being more of a brute than Dapple 
yesterday. ’ ’ 

“ Have your words troubled you very much.’' 

“ They have indeed.” 

“ Well, they’ve troubled me too. You think I’m 
heartless, Mr. Morton and she arose and went to 
her piano. 

I followed her instantly. “ Won’t you forgive 
me,” I asked ; “I’ve repented.” 

“ Oh, nonsense, Mr. Morton. You know as well 
as I do that I’m the one to ask forgiveness.” 

“ No, I don’t,” I said, in a* low, passionate tone. 
“ I fear you are grieving about what you can’t help. ” 
“ Can’t help ?” she repeated, flushing. 

“ Yes, my being here makes you unhappy. If I 
knew it. I’d go to-night.” 

“ And you think that out of sight would be out 
of mmd,” she said, with a strange smile. 

“ Great God ! I don’t know what to think. I 
know that I would do anything under heaven to 
make you look as you did the first night I saw 
you.” 

“ Do I look so badly?” 

“ You look as if you might take wings and leave 
us at any moment.” 

“ Then I wouldn’t trouble you any more.” 

/ “ Then my trouble would be without remedy. 

/ Marry Mr. Hearn ; marry him to-morrow if you 
I wish. I assure you that if you will be honestly and 
* truly happy, I won’t mope a day — I’ll become the 
jolliest old bachelor in New York. I’ll do anything 


380 


A DA OF FA TR. 


within the power of man to make you your old joy- 
ous self. ” 

Now at last she turned her large, glorious eyes 
upon me, and their expression was sadness itself ; 
but she only said quietly, 

I believe you, Mr. Morton.” 

Then tell me, what can I do ?” 

“ Come to supper and she rose and left me. 

I went to my old scat by the window, and the 
tumult in my heart was in wide contrast with the 
quiet summer evening. 

“You are mistaken, Emily Warren,” I thought. 
“You have as much a^ said that I can do nothing 
for you. ril break your chain. You shall not 
marry Gilbert Hearn, if I have to protest in the veiy 
church and before the altar. You are mine, by the 
best and divinest right, and with your truth as my 
ally I’ll win you yet. From this hour I dedicate 
myself to your happiness. Heavens, how blind I’ve 
been !” 

“ Come, Richard,” said Mrs. Yocomb, putting 
her head within the door. 

Miss Warren sat in her place, silent and apathetic. 
She had the aspect of one who had submitted to 
the inevitable, but would no longer pretend she 
liked it. Mr. Yocomb was regarding her furtively, 
with a clouded brow, and Adah’s glances were fre- 
quent and perplexed. I felt as if walking on air, 
and my heart was aglow with gladness ; but I knew 
her far too well to show what was in my mind. My 
purpose now was to beguile the hours till I could 
show her what truth really required of her. Witli the 


RICHARD: 


381 


utmost tact that I possessed, and with all the zest 
that hope confirmed inspired, I sought to diffuse a 
general cheerfulness, and I gradually drew her into 
the current of our talk. After supper I told them 
anecdotes of public characters and eminent people, 
for my calling gave me a great store of this kind oi 
information. Ere she was aware, the despondent 
girl was asking questions, and my answers piqued 
her interest still more ; at last, quite late in the 
evening, Mr. Yocomb exclaimed, 

“ Look here, Richard, what right has thee to 
keep me out of my bed long after regular hours ? 
I’m not a night editor. Good people, you must 
all go to bed. I’m master of this house. Now,, 
don’t say anything, mother, to take me down.” 

Finding myself alone with Miss Warren a moment 
in the hall, I asked, 

” Have I not done more than merely come to 
supper?” 

She turned from me instantly, and went swiftly 
up the stairway. 

But the apathetic, listless look was on her face 
when she came down in the morning, and she ap- 
peared as if passively yielding to a dreaded neces- 
sity. I resumed my old tactics, and almost in spite 
of herself drew her into the genial family life. Mr. 
Yocomb seconded me with unflagging zeal and com- 
mendable tact, while Mrs. Yocomb surpassed us 
both. Adah seemed a little bewildered, as if there 
were something in the air which she could not un- 
derstand. But we made the social sunshine of the 
house so natural cind warm that she could not resist it, 


382 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


** Reuben,” I said, aftei breakfast, “ Miss War* 
ren is not well. A ride after Dapple is the best 
medicine I ever took. Take Miss Warren out for 
a swift, short drive ; don’t let her say no. You have 
the tact to do the thing in the right way. ” 

She did decline repeatedly, but he so persisted 
that she at last said, 

” There, Reuben, I will go with you.” 

” I think thee might do that much for a friend, 
as thee calls me. ” 

When she returned there was a faint color in her 
cheeks. The rapid drive had done her good, and I 
told her so as I helped her from the light wagon. 

“Yes, Mr. Morton, it has, and I thank you for 
the drive very much. Let me suggest that Reu- 
ben is much too honest for a conspirator.” 

“ Well, he was a very willing one ; and I see by 
his face, as he drives down to the barn, that you 
have made him a happy one.” 

“ It doesn’t take much to make him happy.” 

“ And would it take such an enormous amount 
to make you happy ?” 

“ You are much too inclined to be personal to 
be an editor. The world at large should hold your 
interest and she went to her room. 

At the dinner-table the genial spell worked on ; 
she recognized it with a quiet smile, but yielded to 
its kindly power. At last she apparently formed 
the resolution to make the most of this one bright 
day, and she became the life of the party. 

“ Emily,” said Mrs. Yocomb, as we rose from 
the table, “ father proposes that we all go on a 


•PRICHARD. 


3S3 


family picnic to Silver Pond, and take our supper 
there. It’s only three miles away. Would thee 
feel strong enough to go ?” 

Mrs.Yocomb spoke with the utmost simplicity and 
innocence ; but the young girl laughed outright, 
then fixed a penetrating glance on Mr. Yocomb, 
whose florid face became much more ruddy. 

“ Evidences of guilt clearly apparent,” she said, 

and Mr. Morton, too, looks very conscious. 

‘ The best laid schemes of mice and men ’ — you 
know the rest. Oh, yes. I’d go if I had to be 
carried. When webs are spun so kindly, flies ought 
to be caught.” 

” What is the matter with you all T* cried Adah. 

” Miss Adah, if you’ll find me a match for my 
cigar you’ll make me happy,” I said hastily, avail- 
ing myself of the first line of retreat open. 

” Is that all thee needs to make thee happy?” 

” Well, one thing at a time. Miss Adah, if you 
please. ” 

As the day grew cool, Reuben came around with 
the family rockaway. Mrs. Yocomb and Adah had 
prepared a basket as large as their own generous 
natures. I placed Miss Warren beside Mrs. Yo- 
comb on the back seat, while I took my place by 
Adah, with Zillah between us. Little Adela and 
Reuben had become good friends, and she insisted 
on sitting between him and his father. 

As we rolled along the quiet country roads, chat- 
ting, laughing, and occasionally singing a snatch of 
a song, no one would have dreamed that any 
shadows rested on the party except those which 


384 A DAY OF FA TE. 

slanted eastward from the trees, which often hung 
far over our heads. 

I took pains not to feign any forced gayety, nor 
had I occasion to, for I was genuinely happy — hap- 
pier than I had ever been before. Nothing was 
assured save the absolute truth of the woman that 
I loved, but with this ally I was confident. I was 
impartial in my attentions to Adah and Zillah, and 
so friendly to both that Adah was as pleased and 
happy as the child. We chaffed the country neigh- 
' bors whom we met, and even chattered back at the 
barking squirrels that whisked before us along the 
fences. Mr. Yocomb seemed almost as much of 
a boy as Reuben, and for some reason Miss 
Warren always laughed most at his pleasantries. 
Mrs. Yocomb looked as placid and bright as Silver 
Pond, as it at last glistened beneath us in the breath- 
less, sunny afternoon ; but like the clear surface 
fringed with shadows that sank far beneath the 
water, there were traces of many thoughts in her 
large blue eyes. 

There was a cow lying under the trees where we 
meant to spread our table. I pointed her out to 
Miss Warren with humorous dismay. “ Shall we 
turn back?" I asked. 

“No," she replied, looking into my eyes grate- 
fully. “You have become so brave that I’m not 
afraid to go on. " 

I ignored her reference to that v hich I intended 
she should forget for one day, believing that if we 
could make her happy she would recognize how far 
her golden-haloed Ipyer c^me short gf this power, 


RICHARbr’ 


385 


So I said banteringly, “ I’ll wager you my hat that 
you dare not get out and drive that terrific beast 
away. 

“ The idea of Emily’s being afraid of a cow, after 
facing Dapple !” cried Reuben. 

“ Well, we’ll see,” I said. ” Stop the rockaway 
here.” 

” What should I do with your hat, Mr. Morton ?” 

” Wear it, and suffer the penalty,” laughed Adah. 

“You would surely win it,” retorted the girl, a 
little nettled. 

“ ril wager you a box of candy then, or any- 
thing you please. ” ^ 

” Let it be anything I please,” she agreed, laugh- 
ing. ” Mr. Morton, you are not going to let me 
get out alone. ” 

“ Oh, no,*' and I sprang out to assist her down. 

” She wants you to be or hand in case the fero- 
cious beast switches its tail,” cried Adah. 

The hand she gave me trembled as I helped her 
out, and I saw that she regarded the placid creat- 
ure with a dread that she could not disguise. Pick- 
ing up a little stick^ she stepped cautiously and hesi- 
tatingly toward the animal. While still ridiculously 
far away, she stopped, brandished her stick, and 
said, with a quaver ia her threatening tone, “ Get 
up, I tell you !” 

But the cow ruminated quietly as if understand- 
ing well that there was no occasion for alarm. 

The girl took one or two more faltering steps, 
and exclaimed, in a voice of desperate entreaty, 
” 01b please get uo 


386 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


We could scarcely contain ourselves for laughter. 

“ Oh, ye gods ! how beautiful she is !” I mur- 
mured. “ With her arm over Dapple’s neck she 
was a goddess. Now she’s a shrinking woman. 
Heaven grant that it may be my lot to protect her 
from the real perils of life !” 

The cow suddenly switched her tail at a teasing 
gad-fly, and the girl precipitately sought my side. 

Reuben sprang out of • the rockaway and laid 
down and rolled in his uncontrollable mirth. 

“ Was there anything ever so ridiculous.^” cried 
Adah ; for to the country girl Miss Warren’s fear 
was affectation. ^ 

At Adah’s words Miss Warren’s face suddenly 
became white and resolute. 

‘J^Ypii,,_at least, shall not despise me,” she said to 
me in a low tone ; and shutting her eyes she made a 
blind rush toward the cow. I had barely time to 
catch her, or she would have thrown herself on the 
horns of the startled animal that, with tail in air, 
careered away among the trees. The girl was so 
weak and faint that I had to support her ; but I could 
not forbear saying, in a tone that she alone heard, 

” Do we ever despise that which we love su- 
premely ?” 

” Hush !” she answered sternly. 

Mrs. Yocomb was soon at our side with a flask of 
currant wine, and Adah laughed a little bitterly as 
she said, ” It was ‘ as good as a play ! ’ ” Miss 
Warren recovered herself speedily by the aid of the 
generous wine, and this was the only cloud on our 
simple festivity. In her response to my ardent 


Richard:^ 


3^7 


words she seemingly had satisfied her conscience, 
and she acted like one bent on making the most of 
this one occasion of fleeting pleasure. 

Adah was the only one who mentioned the 
banker. “ How Mr. Hearn would have enjoyed 
being here with us !” she exclaimed. 

Miss Warren’s response was a sudden pallor and 
a remorseful expression ; but Mr. Yocomb and I 
speedily created a diversion of thought ; I saw, 
however, that Adah was watching her with a per- 
plexed brow. The hours quickly passed, and in 
the deepening shadows we returned homeward. 
Miss Warren singing some sweet old ballads, to 
which my heart Icept time. 

She seemed loath to bring the evening to a close, 
and sat down at the piano. Adah and. I listened, 
well content. Having put the children to bed Mrs. 
Yocomb joined us, and we chatted over the pleasant 
trip while waiting for Mr. Yocomb and Reuben, who 
had not returned from the barn. At last Mrs. Yo- 
comb said heartily, as if summing it all up, 

“ Well, Richard, thee’s given us a bright, merry 
afternoon. ” 

“ Yes, Richard” Miss Warren began, as if her 
heart had"^ spoken unawares — “ I beg your pardon 
— Mr. Morton — ” and then she stopped in piteous 
confusion, for I had turned toward her with all my 
unspeakable love in my face. 

Adah’s laugh rang out a little harshly. 

I hastened to the rescue of the embarrassed girl, 
saying, ” I don’t see why you should beg my par- 
don. We’re all Friends here. At least I’m trying 


388 


A DAY OF FA TU 


to be one as fast as a leopard can change his spots, 
and the Ethiopian his skin. As for you, a tailor 
would say you were cut from the same cloth as Mrs. 
Yocomb. ” 

But for some reason she could not recover herself. 
She probably realized, in the tumult of her feeling, 
that she had revealed her heart too clearly, and she 
could not help seeing that Adah understood her. 
She was too confused for further pretence, and too 
unnerved to attempt it. After a moment of pitiful 
hesitation she fled with a scarlet face to her room. 

“ Well,” said Adah, with a slight hysterical 
laugh, ” I understand Emily Warren now.” 

” Pardon me. Miss Adah, I don’t' think you do,” 

I began. 

” If thee doesn’t thee’s blind indeed.” 

“I am blind.” 

” Be assured I’m not any longer,” and with a 
deep angry flush she, too, left us. 

I turned to Mrs. Yocomb, and taking both of her 
hands I entreated, ” As you have the heart of a 
woman, never let Emily Warren marry that man. 
Help me — help us both !” 

” My poor boy,” she began, ” this is a serious 
matter — ” 

” It is indeed,” I said passionately ; ” it’s a ques- 
tion of life and death to us both.” 

” Well,” she said thoughtfully, ” I think time ' 
and truth will be on thy side in the end ; but I 
would advise thee not to do or say anything rash or ? 
hasty. She is very resolute. Give her time.” 

• Would to God I had taken her advice ! 


CHAPTER XVII. 


MY WORST BLUNDER. 

I SCARCELY could foresee how we should get 
through the following day. I both longed for 
and dreaded it, feeling that though it might pass 
quietly enough, it would probably be decisive in its 
bearing on the problem of my life. Miss Warren 
would at last be compelled to face the truth square- 
ly, that she had promised a man what she could 
not give, and that to permit him to go on blindly 
trusting would be impossible. The moment she 
realized fully that she had never truly loved him, 
and now never could, she would give up the pre- 
tence. Then why should she not see that love, 
duty, and truth could go together ? That she had 
struggled desperately to be loyal to Mr. Hearn was 
sadly proved by her thin face and wasted form ; 
but with a nature like hers, when once her genuine 
love was evoked, the effort to repress it was as 
vain as seeking to curb a rising tide. I now saw, as 
I looked back over the past weeks, that her love had 
grown steadily and irresistibly till it had overwhelm- 
ed all save her will and conscience ; that these stood, 
the two solitary landmarks of her former world. And 
I khew they would stand, and that my only hope was 
to stand with them. Her love had gone out to me as 
mine had to her, from a constraint that she could 
no^ resist, and this fact I hoped would reveal to her 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


390 

its sacred right to live. With every motive that 
would naturally bind her to a man who could give 
her so much, her heart claimed its mate in one who 
must daily toil long hours for subsistence. It would 
be like her to recognize that a love so unthrifty and 
unselfish must spring from the deepest truths and 
needs of her being rather than from any passing 
causes. She would come to believe as I did, that 
God had created us for each other. 

But it seemed as if the whole world had changed 
and gone awry when we sat down to breakfast 
the next morning. Adah was polite to me, but 
she was cool and distant. She no longer addressed 
me in the Friendly tongue. It was “you” now. 
I had ceased to be one of them, in her estima- 
tion. Her father and mother looked grave and 
worried, but they were as kind and cordial to me as 
ever. Reuben and the little girls were evidently 
mystified by the great change in the social atmos- 
phere, but were too inexperienced to understand 
it. I was pained by Adah’s manner, but did not let 
it trouble me, feeling assured that as she thought 
the past over she would do me justice, and that 
our relations would become substantially those of a 
brother and sister. 

But I was puzzled and alarmed beyond measure 
by Miss Warren’s manner and appearance, and my 
feelings alternated between the deepest sympathy 
and the strongest fear. She looked as if she had 
grown old in the night, and was haggard from 
sleeplessness. Her deep eyes had sunken deeper 
than ever, and the lines under them were dark in^ 


MV WORST BLUNDER. 39 1 

deed, but her white face was full of a cold scorn, 
and she held herself aloof from us all. 

She looked again as if capable of any blind, des- 
perate self-sacrifice.^ 

Simple, honest Mr. Yocomb was sorely perplexed, 
but his wife’s face was grave and inscrutable. If I 
had only gone quietly away and left the whole prob- 
lem to her, how much better it would have been ! 

I tried to speak to Miss Warren in a pleasant, 
natural way ; her answers were brief and polite, 
but nothing more. Before the meal was over she 
excused herself and returned to her room. I felt 
almost indignant. What had I — most of all, what 
had her kind, true friends, Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb — 
done to warrant that cold, half-scornful face 1 Her 
coming to breakfast was but a form, and she clearly 
wished to leave us at the earliest possible moment. 
Adah smiled satirically as she passed out, and the 
expression did not become her fair face. 

I strode out to the arbor in the garden and stared 
moodily at the floor, I know not how long, for I 
was greatly mystified and baffled, and my very soul 
was consumed with anxiety. 

“ She shall listen to reason,” I muttered again 
and again. ” This question must be settled in ac- 
cordance with truth — the simple, natural truth — and 
nothing else. She’s mine, and nothing shall sepa- 
rate us — not even her perverse will and conscience 
and so the heavy hours passed in deep perturbation. 

At last I heard a step, and looking through the 
leaves I saw the object of my thoughts coming 
through the garden, reading a letter. My eyes 


A DA y OF FA TB. 


39 ^ 

glistened with triumph, “ The chance I coveted 
has come/’ I muttered, and I watched her intently. 
She soon crushed the letter in her hand and came 
swiftly toward the arbor, with a face so full of deep 
and almost wild distress that my heart relented, 
and I resolved to be as gentle as I before had in- 
tended to be decisive and argumentative. I hastily 
changed my seat to the angle by the entrance, so 
that I could intercept her should she try to escape 
the interview. 

She entered, and throwing herself down on the 
seat, buried her face in her arm. 

“ Miss Warren,” I began. 

She started up with a passionate gesture. You 
have no right to intrude on me now,” she said, 
almost sternly. 

” Pardon me, were I not here when you entered, 
I would still have a right to come. You are in deep 
distress. Why must I be inhuman any more than 
yourself ? You have at least promised me friend- 
ship, but you treat me like an enemy.” 

“You have been my worst enemy.” 

“ I take issue with you there at once. Tve never 
had a thought toward you that was not most kind 
and loyal.” 

“ Loyal !” she repeated bitterly ; “ that word in 
itself is a stab. ” 

“ Miss Warren,” I said very gently, “ you make 
discord in the old garden to-day.” 

She dropped her letter on the ground and sank 
on the seat again. Such a passion of sobs shook 
her slight frame that I trembled with apprehension. 


MY WORST BLUNDER. 


But I kept quiet, believing that Nature could care 
for her child better than I could, and that her out- 
burst of feeling would bring relief. At last, as 
she became a little more self-controlled, I said, 
gravely and kindly, 

“ There must be some deep cause for this deep 
grief.” 

“Oh, what shall I do?” she sobbed. “What 
shall I do ? I wish the earth would open and swal- 
low me up.” 

“ That wish is as vain as it is cruel. I wish you 
would tell me all, and let m^ help you. I think 
I deserve it at your hands.” 

“ Well, since you know so much, you may as well 
know all. It doesn’t matter now, since every one will 
soon know. He has written that his business will 
take him to Europe within a month — that we must 
be married — that he will bring his sister here to- 
night to help me make arrangements. Oh ! oh ! 
Td rather die than ever see him again. I’ve wrong- 
ed him so cruelly, so causelessly.” 

In wild exultation I snatched a pocketbook from 
my coat and cried, 

“ Miss Warren — Emily — do you remember this 
little York and Lancaster bud that you gave me the 
day we first met ? Do you remember my half-jest- 
ing, random words, ‘ To the victor belong the 
spoils ? ' See, the victor is at your feet.” 

She sprang up and turned her back upon me. 
“ Rise !” she said, in a voice so cold and stern that, 
bewildered, I obeyed. 

She soon became as calm as before she had been 


394 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


passionate and unrestrained in her grief ; but it was 
a stony quietness that chilled and disheartened me 
before she spoke. 

“ It does indeed seem as if the truth between us 
^could never be hidden,” she said bitterly. ” You 
have now very clearly shown your estimate of me. 
You regard me as one of those weak women of the 
past whom the strongest carry off. You have been 
the stronger in this case — oh, you know it well ! Not 
even in the house of God could I escape your vigi- 
lant scrutiny. You hoped and watched and waited 
for me to be false. Should I yield to you, you 
would never forget that I had been false, and, in 
accordance with your creed, you would ever fear — 
that is, if your passion lasted long enough — the 
coming of one still stronger, to whom in the weak 
necessity of my nature, I again would yield. Low as 
I have fallen, I will never accept from a man a mere 
passion devoid of respect and honor. I’m no longer 
entitled to these, therefore I’ll accept nothing.” 

She poured out these words like a torrent, in spite 
of my gestures of passionate dissent, and my efforts 
to be heard ; but it was a cold, pitiless torrent. 
Excited as I was, I saw how intense was her self- 
loathing. I also saw despairingly that she em- 
braced me in her scorn. 

‘‘Miss Warren,” I said dejectedly, “since you 
are so unjust to yourself, what hope have I ?” 

“ There is little enough for either of us,” she 
continued, more bitterly ; “ at least there is none for 
me. You will, no doubt, get bravely over it, as you 
said. Men generally do, especially when in their 


MV WORST BLUNDER. 


395 


hearts they have no respect for the woman with 
whom they are infatuated. Mr. Morton, the day 
oT^Tour coming was indeed the day of my fate. I 
wish you could have saved the lives of the others^ 
but not mine. I could then have died in peace, 
with honor unstained. But now, what is my life 
but an intolerable burden of shame and self- 
reproach ? Without cause and beyond the thought 
of forgiveness, I’ve wronged a good, honorable 
man, who has been a kind and faithful friend for 
years. He is bringing his proud, aristocratic sister 
here to-night to learn how false and contemptible I 
am. The people among whom I earned my humble 
livelihood will soon know how unfit I am to be 
trusted with their daughters — that I am one who 
falls a spoil to the strongest. I have lost every- 
thing — chief of all my pearl of great price — my 
truth. What have I left ? Is there a more im- 
poverished creature in the world ? There is nothing 
left to me but bare existence and hateful memories. 
Oh, the lightning was dim compared with the vivid- 
ness with which I’ve seen it all since that hateful 
moment last night, when the truth became evident 
even to Adah Yocomb. But up to that moment, 
even up to this hour, I hoped you pitied me — that 
you were watching and waiting to help me to be true 
and not to be false. I did not blame you greatly for 
your love — my own weakness made me lenient — and 
at first you did not know. But since you now openly 
seek that which belongs to another ; since you now 
exult that you are the stronger, and that I have be- 
come your spoil, I feel, though I cannot yet see and 


39 ^ 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


realize the depths into which I have fallen. Even 
to-day you might have helped me as a friend, and 
shown me how some poor shred of my truth might 
have been saved ; but you snatch at me as if I 
were but the spoil of the strongest. INIr. Morton, 
either you or I must leave the farm-house at once.’' 

“ This is the very fanaticism of truth,” I cried 
desperately. ” Your mind is so utterly warped, and 
morbid from dwelling on one side of this question 
that you are cruelly unjust.” 

” Would that I had been less kind and more just. 

I felt sorry for you, from the depths of my heart. 
Why have you had no pity for me ? You are a man 
of the world, and know it. Why did you not show 
me to what this wretched weakness would lead ? I 
thought you meant this kindness when you said you 
wished my brother was here. Oh that I were 
sleeping beside him ! I thought you meant this 
when you said that nothing would last, nothing 
could end well unless built on the truth. I hoped 
you were watching me with the vigilance of a man 
who, though loving me, was so strong and generou5 
and honorable that he would try to save me from a 
weakness that I cannot understand, and which was 
the result of strange and unforeseen circumstances. 
When you were so ill I felt as if I had dealt you 
your death-blow, and then, woman-like, I loved 
you. I loved you before I recognized my folly. 
Up to that point we could scarcely help ourselves*.^ 
For weeks I tried to hide the truth from myself. 
fought against it. I prayed against it through 
sleepless nights. I tried to hide the truth from you 


MV WORST BLUNDER. 


397 


most of all. But I remember the flash of hope in 
your face when you first surmised my miserable 
secret. It hurt me cruelly. Your look should 
have been one of dismay and sorrow. But I know 
something of the weakness of the heart, and its first 
impulse might naturally be that of gladness, 
although honor must have changed it almost in- 
stantly into deep regret. Then I believed that you 
were sorry, and that it was your wish to help me. 
I thought it was your purpose yesterday to show me 
that I could be happy, even in the path of right 
and duty, that had become so hard, though you 
spoke once as you ought not. But when I, un- 
awares, and from the impulse of a grateful heart, 
“spoke your name last night as that of my truest and 
best friend, as I thought, you turned toward me 
the face of a lover, and to-day — but it’s all over. 
Will you go ?” 

Are Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb false?” I cried. 

“ No, they are too simple and true to realize the 
truth. Mr. Morton, I think we fully understand 
each other now. Since you will not go, I shall. 
You had better remain here and grow strong. 
Please let me pass.” 

I wish you had dealt me my death-blow. It 
were a merciful one compared with this. No, you 
don’t understand me at all. You have portrayed 
me as a vile monster. Because you cannot keep 
your engagement with a man you never truly loved, 
you inflict the torments of hell on the man you do 
love, and whom Heaven meant you to love. Great 
God ! you arc not married to Gilbert Hearn. Have 


39 ^ 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


not engagements often been broken for good and 
sufficient reasons ? Is not the truth that our hearts 
almost instantly claimed eternal kindred a suffi- 
cient cause ? I watched and waited that I might 
know whether you were his or mine. I did not seek 
to win you from him after I knew — after I remem^ 
bered. But when I knew the truth, you were mine., „ 
Before God I assert my right, and before his altar I _ 
would protest against your marriage to any other.” 

She sank down on the arbor seat, white and faint, 
but made a slight repellent gesture. 

” Yes, I’ll go,” I said bitterly ; ” and such a scene 
as this might well cause a better man than I to go 
to the devil and I strode away. 

But before I had taken a dozen steps my heart 
relented, and I returned. Her face was again 
buried in her right arm and her left hand hung by 
her side. 

I took it in both of my own as I said, gently and 
sadly, 

” Emily Warren, you may scorn me — you. may 
refuse ever to see my face again ; but I have dedi- 
cated my life to your happiness, and I shall keep my 
vow. It may be of no use, but God looketh at the 
intent of the heart. Heathen though I am, I can- 
not believe he will let that June day when we first 
met prove so fatal to us both : the God of whom 
Mrs. Yocomb told us wants no harsh, useless self,-., 
sacrifice. You are..not false, and never have been. 
Mrs. Yocomb is not more true. I respect and 
honor you, as I do my mother’s memory, though my 
respect now counts so little to you. I never meant 



Day of Fate, 


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MY WORST BLUNDER. 


399 


CO wrong you or pain you ; I meant your happiness 
first and always. If you care to know, my future 
l ife sh all show whether I am a gentleman or a vil- 
lain. May God show you how cruelly unjust you 
are to yourself. I shall attempt no further self- 


defence. Good-by.” 


She trembled ; but she only whispered, 


” Good-by. Go, and forget.” 

“ When I forget you — when I fail in loving 



jpyalty to you, may God forget me !” I replied, 
and I hastened from the garden with as much 
sorrow and bitterness in my heart as the first man 
could have felt when the angel drove him from 
Eden. Alas ! I was going out alone into a world 
that had become thorny indeed. 

As I approached the house Mrs. Yocomb hap- 
pened to come out on the piazza. 

“ I took her hand and drew her toward the gar- 
den gate. She saw that I was almost speechless 
from trouble, and with her native wisdom divined 
it all. 

“ I did not take your advice,” I groaned, “ ac- 
cursed fool that I was ! But no matter about me. 
Save Emily from herself. As you believe in God’s 
mercy, watch over her as you watched over me. 
Show her the wrong of wrecking both of our lives. 
She’s in the arbor there. Go and stay w'ith her till 
I am gone. You are my only hope. God bless 
you for all your kindness to me. Please write : I 
shall be in torment till I hear from you. Good- 


by.” 


I watched her till I saw her enter the arbor, 


400 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


then hastened to the barn, where Reuben was giv- 
ing the horses their noonday feeding. 

Reuben,” I said quietly, ” Tm compelled to go 
to New York at once. We can catch the afternoon 
train, if you are prompt. Not a word, old fellow. 
I’ve no time now to explain. I must go, and I’ll 
walk if you won’t take me and I hastened to the 
house and packed for departure with reckless 
haste. 

At the foot of the moody stairway I met Adah. 

“Are you going away?” she tried to say dis- 
tantly, with face averted. 

“Yes, Miss Adah, and I fear you are glad.” 

“ No,” she said brokenly, and turning she gave 
me her hand. “ I can’t keep this up any longer, 
Richard. Since we first met I’ve been very foolish, 
very weak, and thee — thee has been a true gentle- 
man toward me.” 

“ I wish I might be a true brother. God knows 
I feel like one.” 

“ Thee — thee saved my life, Richard. I was 
wicked to forget that for a moment. Will thee for- 
give me ?” 

“ I’ll forgive you only as you will let me become 
the most devoted brother a girl ever had, for I love 
and respect you, Adah, very, very much.” 

Tears rushed into the warm-hearted girl’s eyes. 
She put her arms around my neck and kissed me. 
“Let this seal that agreement,” she said, “and 
I’ll be thy sister in heart as well as in name.” 

How kind and good you are, Adah !” I fal- 
tered. “You are growing like your mother now. 


MV WORST BLUNDER. 


401 


When you come to New York you will see how I 
keep my word,” and I hastened away. 

Mr. Yocomb intercepted me in the path. 

” How’s this? how’s this?” he cried. 

” I must go to New York at once,” 1 said. 

' Mrs. Yocomb will explain all. I have a message 
for Mr. Hearn. Please say that I will meet him at 
any time, and will give any explanations to which 
he has a right. Good-by ; I won’t try to thank you 
for your kindness, which I shall value more and more 
'every coming day.” 

For a long time we rode in silence, Reuben look- 
ing as grim and lowering as his round, ruddy face 
permitted. 

At last he broke out, “Now, I say, blast Emily 

Warren’s grandfather !” ' ^ 

No, Reuben, my boy,” I replied, putting my 
arm around him, “with all his millions, I’m 
heartily sorry for Mr. Hearn.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


MRS. YOCOMB’S LETTERSc 

I WILL not weary the reader with my experi- 
ences after arriving at New York. I cou ld not 
have felt worse had I been driven into the Dismal 
Swamp. My apartments were dusty and stifling, 
and as cheerless as my feelings. 

My editorial chief welcomed me cordially, and 
talked business. “After you had gone,” he was 
kind enough to say, “we learned your value. 
Night work is too wearing for you, so please take 
that office next to mine. I feel a little like break- 
ing down myself, and don’t intend to wait until I 
do, as you did. I shall be off a great deal the rest 
of the summer, and you’ll have to manage things.” 
“ Pile on work,” I said ; “I’m greedy for it.” 
“Yes,” he replied, laughing, “ I appreciate that 
rare trait of yours ; but I shall regard you as in- 
subordinate if you don’t take proper rest. Give ua 
your brains, Morton, and leave hack work to others. 
That’s where you blundered before.” 

Within an hour I was caught in the whirl of the 
great complicated world, and, as I said to Mr. Yo- 
comb, I had indeed no time to mope. Thank God 
for work ! It’s the best antidote this world has for 
trouble. 

But when night came my brain was weary and 
my heart heavy as lead. It seemed as if the farm- 


M/^S. YOCOMB'S LETTERS. 403 

house was in another world, so diverse was every- 
thing there from my present life. 

I had given my up-town address to Mrs. Yocomb 
And went home — if I may apply that term to my 
dismal boarding-place — Tuesday night, feeling as- 
sured that there must be a letter. Good Mrs. Yo- 
comb had not failed me, for on my table lay a bulky 
envelope, addressed in a quaint but clear hand. 
I was glad no one saw how my hand trembled as I 
opened her missive and read : 

“ My dear Richard : I know how anxious thee 
is for tidings from us all, and especially from one 
toward whom thy heart is very tender. I will take 
up the sad story where thee left it. Having all the 
facts, thee can draw thy own conclusions. 

“ I found Emily in an almost fainting condition, 
and I just took her in my arms and let her cry like 
a child until tears brought relief. It was no time 
for words. Then I brought her into the house and 
gave her something that made her sleep in spite of 
herself. She awoke about an hour before Gilbert 
Hearn’s arrival, and her nervous trepidation at the 
thought of meeting him was so great that I resolved 
she should not see him — at least not that night— 
and I told her so. This gave her great relief, 
though she said it was cowardly in her to feel so. 
But in truth she was too ill to see him. Her strug- 
gle had been too long and severe, and her nervous 
system was utterly prostrated. I had Doctor Bates 
here when Gilbert Hearn came, and the doctor is 
very discreet. I told him that he must manage so 


404 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


that Emily need not see the one she so feared to 
meet again, and hinted plainly why, though making 
no reference to thee, of course. The doctor acted 
as I wished, not because I wished it, but on pro- 
fessional grounds. ‘ Miss Warren’s future health 
depends on absolute rest and quiet,’ he said to hef 
affianced. ‘ I not only advise that you do not sec 
her, but I forbid it,’ for he was terribly excited — so 
was his sister, Charlotte Bradford — and it was as 
much as we could do to keep them from going to 
her room. If they had, I believe the excitement 
would have destroyed either her life or reason. 
Gilbert Hearn plainly intimated that something was 
wrong. ‘ Very well, then,’. I said, ‘ bring thy own 
family physician, and let him consult with Doctor 
Bates,’ and this he angrily said he would do on the 
morrow. The very fact they were in the house 
made the poor girl almost wild ; but I stayed with 
her all night, and she just lay in my arms like a 
frightened child, and my heart yearned over her as 
if she were my own daughter. She did not speak 
of thee, but I heard her murmur once, ‘ I was 
cruel — I was unjust to him.’ 

“ In the morning she was more composed, and I 
made her take strong nourishment, I can tell thee. 
Thee remembers how I used to dose thee in spite 
of thyself. 

“ Well, in the morning Emily seemed to be 
thinking deeply ; and by and by she said, ‘ Mrs. 
Yocomb, I want this affair settled at once. I want 
you to sit by me while I write to him, and advise 
me.’ I felt she was right. Her words were about 


MJ^S. YOCOMB'S LETTERS. 405 

as follows : (I asked her if I could tell thee what 
she wrote. She hesitated a little, and a faint color 
came into her paleface. ‘Yes,’ she said at last, 
‘ let him know the whole truth. Since so much has 
occurred between us, I want him to know every- 
thing. He then may judge me as he thinks best. I 
have a horror of any more misunderstanding.’) 

“ ‘You can never know, Mr. Hearn,’ she wrote, 
‘ the pain and sorrow with which I address to you 
these words. Still less can you know my shame 
and remorse ; but you are an honorable man, and 
have a right to the truth. My best hope is that 
when you know how unworthy I am of your regard 
your regret will be slight. I recall all your kindness 
to me, and my heart is tortured as I now think of 
the requital I am making. Still, justice to myself 
requires that I tell you that I mistook my gratitude 
and esteem, my respect and genuine regard, for a 
deeper emotion. You will remember, however, 
that I long hesitated, feeling instinctively that I 
could not give you what you had a right to expect. 
Last spring you pressed me for a definite answer. 
1 said I would come to this quiet place and think it 
all over, and if I did not write you to the contrary 
within a few days you might believe that I had 
yielded to your wishes. I found myself more worn 
and weary from my toilsome life than I imagined. 
I was lonely ; I dreaded my single-handed struggle 
with the world, and my heart overflowed with grati- 
tude toward you — it does still — for your kindness, 
and for all that you promised to do for me I had 
not the will nor the disposition to say no, or to put 


A DA V OF FA TE. 


406 

you off any longer. Still I had misgiving ; I feared 
that I did not feel as I ought. When I received 
your kind letter accepting my silence as consent, I 
felt bound by it — I was bound by it. I have no ex- 
cuse to offer ; I have no defence to make. I can 
only state the miserable truth. I cannot love you 
as a wife ought, and I know now that I never can. 
Tve tried — God knows I’ve tried. I’m worn out 
with the struggle. I fear I am very ill. I wish I 
were dead and at rest. I cannot ask you to think 
mercifully of me. I cannot think mercifully of my- 
self. To meet again would be only useless suffer- 
ing. I am not equal to it. My one effort now is 
to gain sufficient strength to go to some distant 
relatives in the West. Please forget me. 

“ ‘ In sorrow and bitter regret, 

“ ‘ Emily Warren.’ ” 

I started up and paced the room distractedly. 
“ The generous girl !” I exclaimed, “ she lays not 
a particle of blame on me. But, by Jove ! I’d like 
to take all the blame, and have it out with him here 
and now. Blame ! What blame is there ? The 
poor child ! Why can’t she see that she is white 
as snow ?” 

Again I eagerly turned to Mrs. Yocomb’s words : 

“ Emily seemed almost overwhelmed at the 
thought of his reading this letter. She is so gener- 
ous, so sensitive, that she saw only his side of the 
case, and made scarcely any allowance for herself. 

I was a little decided and plain-spoken with her, 
and it did her good. At last I said to her, ‘ I am 


VOCOMB'S LETTERS. 407 

not weak-minded, -if I am simple and plain. Be- 
cause I live in the country is no reason why I do 
not know what is right and just. Thee has no cause 
to blame thyself so bitterly.’ ‘ Does Mr. Yocomb 
feel and think as you do ? ’ she asked. ‘ Of course 
he does/ I replied. She put her hands to her 
head and said pitifully, ‘ Perhaps I am too distract- 
ed to see things clearly. I sometimes fear 1 may 
lose my reason.’ ‘ Well, Emily,’ I said, ‘ thee has 
done right. Thee cannot help feeling as thee does, 
and to go on now would be as great a wrong to 
Gilbert Hearn as to thyself. Thee has done just as 
I would advise my own daughter to do. Leave all 
with me. Thee need not see him again. I am 
going to stand by thee ;’ and I left her quite heart- 
ened up.” 

” Oh, but you are a gem of a woman !” I cried. 
“ A few more like you would bring the millennium.” 

” Gilbert Hearn was dreadfully taken aback by 
the letter ; but I must do him the justice to say 
that he was much touched by it too, for he called 
me again into the parlor, and I saw that he was 
much moved. He had given his sister the letter to 
read, and she muttered, ‘ Poor thing !’ as she fin- 
ished it. He fixed his eyes sternly on me and said, 

‘ Mr. Morton is at the bottom of this thing.’ I re- 
turned his gaze very quietly, and asked, ‘ What am 
I to infer by this expression of thy opinion to me ? ’ 
His sister was as quick as a flash, and she said 
plainly, ‘ Gilbert, these people were not two little 
children in Mrs. Yocomb’s care. ’ ‘ Thee is right,’ 

I said ; ‘ I have not controlled their actions any more 


4o8 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


than I have those of thy brother. Richard Mof- 
ton is absent, however, and were we not under 
peculiar obligations to him I would still be bound 
to speak for him, since he is not here to speak for 
himself. I have never seen Richard Morton do 
anything unbecoming a gentleman. Has thee, Gil- 
bert Hearn ? If so, I think thee had better see 
him, for he is not one to deny thee any explanation 
to which thee has a right. ’ ‘ Why did he go to 

the city so suddenly ? ’ he asked angrily. ‘ I will 
give thee his address,’ I said coldly. ‘ Gilbert,’ ex- 
postulated his sister, ‘ we have no right to cross- 
question Mrs. Yocomb. ’ ‘ Since thee is so con- 

siderate,’ I said to her, ‘ I will add that Richard 
Morton intended to return on Second Day at the 
latest, and he chose to go tb-day. His action enables 
me to give thee a room to thyself.’ ‘ Gilbert,’ said 
the lady, ‘ I do not see that we have any reason to 
regret his absence. As Mrs. Yocomb says, you can 
see him in New York ; but unless you have well 
founded and specific charges to make, I think it 
would compromise your dignity to see him. Edi- 
tors are ugly customers to stir up unless there is 
good cause.’ 

“I know one,” I growled, ” that would be a 
particularly ugly customer just now.” 

” ‘ In Emily Warren’s case,’ I said, ‘ it is differ- 
ent,' ” Mrs. Yocomb continued. ” ‘ She is a 
motherless girl and has appealed to me for advice 
and sympathy. In her honest struggle to be loyal 
to thee she has worn herself almost to a shadow, and 
I have grave fears for her reason and her life, so 


MRS. YO COMB'S LETTERS. 4O9 

great is her prostration. She has for thee, Gilbert 
Hearn, the sincerest respect and esteem, and the 
feeling that she has wronged thee, even though she 
cannot help it, seems almost to crush her. ' ‘ Gil- 

bert,’ said his sister warmly, ‘ you cannot blame 
her, and you certainly ought to respect her. If she 
were not an honest-hearted girl she would never 
have renounced you with your great wealth.’ He 
sank into a chair and looked very white. ‘ It’s a 
terrible blow,’ he said ; ‘ it’s the first severe reverse 
I’ve ever had.’ ‘ Well,’ she replied, ‘ I know from 
your character that you will meet it like a man and 
a gentleman.’ ‘ Certainly,’ he said, with a deep 
breath, ‘ I cannot do otherwise.’ I then rose and 
bowed, saying, ‘ You will both excuse me if I am 
with my charge much of the time. Adah will at- 
tend to your wants, and I hope you will feel at 
home so long as it shall please you to stay.’ ” 

“ By, Jove ! but her tact was wonderful. Not a 
diplomat in Europe could have done better. The 
innocent-looking Quakeress was a match for them 
both. ” 

“ Then I went back to Emily,” Mrs. Yocomb 
wrote, ” and I found her in a pitiable state of ex- 
citement. When I opened the door she started up 
apprehensively, as if she feared that the man with 
whom she had broken would burst in upon her with 
bitter reproaches. I told her everything ; for even 
I cannot deceive her, she is so quick. Her mind 
was wonderfully lightened, and I soon made her 
sleep again. She awoke in the evening much 
quieter, but she cried a good deal in the night, and 


410 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


I surmise she was thinking of thee more than of her- 
self or of him. I wish thee had waited until all this 
was over, but I think all will come out right.” 

” Oh, the unutterable fool that I was !” I 
groaned ; “I’m the champion blunderer of the 
world. ” 

” Well, Richard, this is the longest letter I ever 
wrote, and I must bring it to a close, for my 
patient needs me. I will write soon again, and tell 
thee everything. Good-night. 

” Second Day. P.S. — I left my letter open to 
add a postscript. Gilbert Hearn and his sister left 
this morning. The former at last seemed quite 
calm and resigned, and was very polite. His sister 
was too. She amused me not a little. I do not think 
that her heart was greatly set on the match, and she 
was not so troubled but that she could take an inter- 
est in our quiet, homely ways. I think we seemed 
to her like what you city people call bric-a-brac^ 
but she was too much of a lady to let her curiosity 
become offensive. She took a great fancy to Adah, 
especially as she saw that Adela was very fond of 
her, and she persuaded her brother to leave the 
child here in our care, saying that she was improving 
wonderfully. He did not seem at all averse to the 
plan. Adah is behaving very nicely, if I do say it, 
and showed a great deal of quiet, gentle dignity. 
She and Charlotte Bradford had a long chat in the 
evening about Adela. Adah says, ‘ Send Richard 
my love ; ’ and if I put in all the messages from 
father, Reuben, and Zillah, they would fill another 
sheet. 




MRS. YOCOMB'S LETTERS. 41 1 

“ I asked Emily if she had any message for thee. 
She buried her face in the pillow and murmured, 
‘ Not now, not yet ; ’ but after a moment she turned 
toward me, looking white and resolute. ‘ Tell him,’ 
sh^ said, ‘ to forgive me and forget.’ Be patient, 
Richard. Wait. 

“ Thine affectionately, 

“ Ruth Yocomb.’' 

** Forge t !” I shouted. “Yes, when I am annihi- 
l ated ,’’ and I paced my room for hours. At last, 
exhausted, I sought such rest as I could obtain, 
but my last thought was, “ God bless Ruth Yo> 
co mb. I could kiss the ground she had trodden.’’ 

The next morning I settled down to my task of 
waiting and working, resolving that there must be 
no more nights like the last, in which I had wasted 
a vast amount of vital force. I wrote to Mrs. Yo- 
comb, and thanked her from a full heart. 1 sent 
messages to all the family, and said, “ Teh Adah 
I shall keep her love warm in my heart, and that I 
send her twice as much of mine in return. Like all 
brothers, I shall take liberties, and will subscribe in 
her behalf for the two best magazines in the city. 
Give Miss Warren this simple message : The words 
I last spoke to her shall ever be true.’’ 

I also told Mrs. Yocomb of my promotion, and 
that I was no longer a night-owl. 

Toward the end of the week came another bulky 
letter, which I devoured, letting my dinner grow 
cold. ^ 

. ^"“Our life at the farm-house has become very 


412 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


quiet,” she wrote. ” Emily improves slowly, for her 
nervous system has received a severe strain. I 
told her that thee had sent messages to all the 
family, and asked if she did not expect one. ‘ I’ve 
no right to any — there’s no occasion for any,’ she 
faltered ; but her eyes were very wistful and en- 
treating. ‘ Well,’ I said, ‘ I must clear my con- 
science, and since he sent thee one, I must give it. 
He writes, ‘ Say to Miss Warren in reply, that the 
last words I spoke to her shall ever be true.’ I sup- 
pose thee knows what he means,’ I said, smiling; 

‘ I don’t.’ She buried her face in the pillow again ; 
but I think thy message did her good, for she soon 
fell asleep, and looked more peaceful than at any 
time yet.” 

At last there came a letter saying, ” Emily has 
left us and gone to a cousin — a Mrs. Vining^ — who 
resides at Columbus, Ohio. She is much better, but 
very quiet — very different from her old self. Father 
put her on the train, and she will have to change 
♦cars only once. ‘ Emily,’ I said to her, ‘ thee can 
not go away without one word for Richard.’ She 
was deeply moved, but her resolute will gained the 
mastery. ‘ I am trying to act for the best,’ she 
said. ‘ He has appealed to the future : the future 
must prove us both, for there must be no more mis- 
takes.’ ‘Does thee doubt thyself, Emily?’ ‘I 
have reason to doubt myself, Mrs. Yocomb,’ she 
replied. ‘ But what does thy heart tell thee ? ’ A 
deep solemn look came into her eyes, and after a 
few moments she said, ‘ Pardon me, my dear friend, 
if I do not answer you fully. Indeed, I would 


MRS. YOCOMB'S LETTERS. 4^3 

scarcely know how tc answer you. I have entered 
on an experience that is new and strange to me. I 
am troubled and frightened at myself. I want to 
g© away among strangers, where I can think and 
grow calm. I want to be alone with my God. I 
should always be weak and vacillating here. More- 
over, Mr. Morton has formed an impression of me, 
of which, perhaps, I cannot complain. This im- 
pression may grow stronger in his mind. It has all 
been too sudden. His experiences have been too 
intermingled with storm, delirium, and passion. 
He has not had time to think any more than I 
have. In the larger sphere of work to which you 
say he has been promoted he may find new inter- 
ests that will be absorbing. After a quiet and dis- 
tant retrospect he may thank me for the course I 
am taking.’ ‘ Emily ! ’ I exclaimed, ‘ for so tender- 
hearted a girl thee is very strong.’ ‘ No,’ she re- 
plied, ‘ but because I have learned my weakness 
I am going away from temptation.’ I then 
asked, ‘ is thee willing I should tell Richard what 
thee has said ? ’ After thinking for some time she 
answered, ‘ Yes, let everything be based on the 
simple truth. But tell him he must respect my 
action — he must leave me to myself.’ The after- 
noon before she left us, Adah and Reuben went 
over to the village and got some beautiful rose- 
buds, and Adah brought them up after tea. Emily 
was much touched, and kissed her again and again. 
Then she threw herself into my arms and cried for 
nearly an hour, but she went away bravely. I 
never can think of it with dry eyes. Zillah was 


414 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


heart-broken, and Reuben clung to her in a way that 
surprised me. He has been very remorseful that 
he treated her badly at one time. Adah and I 
were mopping our eyes, and father kept blowing his 
nose like a trumpet. She gave way a little at the 
last moment, for Reuben ran down to the barn and 
brought out Dapple that she might say good-by to 
him, and she put her arms around the pretty creat- 
ure’s neck and sobbed for a moment or two. I 
never saw a horse act so. He followed her right 
up to the rockaway steps. At last she said, * Come, 
let us go, quick ! ’ I shall never forget the scene, 
and I think that she repressed so much feeling that 
we had to express it for her. She kissed little 
Adela tenderly, and the child was crying too. It 
seemed as if we couldn’t go on and take up our 
every-day life again. I wouldn’t have believed that 
one who was a stranger but a short time ago could 
have gotten such a hold upon our hearts, but as I 
think it all over I do not wonder. Dear little Zil- 
lah reminds me of what I owe to her. She is very 
womanly, but she is singularly strong. As she 
was driven away she looked up at thy window, so 
thee may guess that thee was the last one in her 
thoughts. Wait, and be patient. Do just as she 
says. 

I am glad that my editorial chief did not see me 
as I read this letter, for I fear I should have been 
deposed at once. Its influence on me, however, 
was very satisfactory to him, for if ever a man was 
put on his mettle I felt that I had been. 

“ Very well, Emily Warren,” I said, ” we have 


Af/^S. YOCOMB'S LETTERS. 4^5 

both appealed to the future: let it judge us. ” I 
worked and tried to live as if the girl’s clear 
dark eyes were always on me, and her last lingering 
glance at the window from which I had watched 
her go to meet the lover that, for my sake, she 
could not marry, was a ray of steady sunshine. She 
did not realize how unconsciously she had given me 
hope. 

A few days later I looked carefully over our sub- 
scription list. Her paper had been stopped, and I 
felt this keenly ; but as I was staring blankly at the 
obliterated name a happy thought occurred to me, 
and I turned to the letter V. With a gleam of 
deep satisfaction in my eyes I found the address, 
Mrs. Adelaide Vining, Columbus, Ohio. 

“ Now through the editorial page I can write to 
her daily,” I thought. 

Late in September my chief said to me, 

” Look here, Merton, you are pitching into every 
dragon in the country. I don’t mind fighting three 
or four evils or abuses at a time, but this general 
onslaught is raising a breeze.” 

” With your permission, I don’t care if it becomes 
a gale, as long as we are well ballasted with facts.” 

” Well, to go back to my first figure, be sure 
you are well armed before you attack. Some of 
the beasts are old and tough, and have awful stings 
in their tails. The people seem to like it, though, 
from the way subscriptions are coming in.” 

But I wrote chiefly for one reader. He would 
have opened his eyes if I had told him that a young 
music-teacher in Columbus, Ohio, had a large share 


A DAY OF FA TK. 


416 

in conducting the journal. Over my desk in my 
rooms I had had framed, in illuminated text, the 
v/ords she had spoken to me on the most memorable 
day of my life. 

“ The editor has exceptional opportunities, and 
might be the knight-errant of our age. If in ear- 
nest, and on the right side, he can forge a weapon 
out of public opinion that few evils could resist. 
He is in just the position to discover these dragons 
and drive them from their hiding-places.” 

The spirit that breathed in these words I tried to 
make mine, for I wished to feel and think as she 
did. While I maintained my individuality of 
thought I never touched a question but that I first 
looked it from her standpoint. I labored for weeks 
over an editorial entitled ” Truth versus Con 
science,” and sent it like an arrow into the West. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


ADAH. 

I HEARD often from the farmhouse, and learned 
that Mr. Hearn had gone to Europe almost 
immediately, but that he had returned in the latter 
part of September, and had spent a week with his 
little girl, Mrs. Bradford, his sister, accompanying 
him. “ They seem to think Adela is doing so 
well,’* Mrs. Yocomb wrote, “that they have de- 
cided to leave her here through October. Adah 
spends part of every forenoon teaching the little 
girls.” In the latter part of November I received 
a letter that made my heart beat thick and fast. 

“ We expect thee to eat thy Thanksgiving dinner 
with us, and we expect also a friend from the West. 
I think she will treat thee civilly. At any rate we 
have a right to invite whom we please. We drew up 
a petition to Emily, and all signed it. Father added 
a direful postscript. He said, ‘ If thee won’t come 
quietly, I will go after thee. Thee thinks I am a 
man of peace, but there will be commotion and vio- 
lence in Ohio if thee doesn’t come ; so, strong willed 
as thee is, thee has got to yield for once.’ She 
wrote father the funniest letter in reply, in which 
she agreed, for the credit of the Society of Friends, 
not to provoke him to extremities. She doesn’t 
know thee is coming, but I think she knows me 
well enough to be sure that thee would be invited. 
Emily writes that she will not return to New York 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


418 

to live, since she can obtain more scholars than she 
needs at Columbus.” 

Mrs. Yocomb also added that Adah had left 
home that day for an extended visit in the city, and 
she gave me her address. 

I had written to Adah more than once, and had 
made out a programme of what we should do when 
she came to town. 

Quite early in the evening I started out to call 
upon her, but as I drew near the house I saw that 
a handsome coupe stood before the door, drawn by 
two horses, and that the coachman was in livery. 
My steps were speedily arrested, for the door of the 
dwelling was opened, and Mr. Hearn came out, ac- 
companied by Adah. They entered the coupe and 
were driven rapidly toward Fifth Avenue. I gave 
a long, low whistle, and took two or three turns 
around the block, muttering, “Gilbert Hearn, but 
you are shrewd. If you can’t have the best thing 
in the world, you’ll have the next best. Come to 
think of it, she is the best for you. If this comes 
about for Adah, I could throw my hat over yonder 
steeple. ” 

I went back to the house proposing to leave my 
card, and thus show Adah that I was not inatten- 
tive. The interior of the dwelling, like its exte- 
rior, was plain, but very substantial and elegant. 
The servant handed my card to a lady passing 
through the hall. 

“Oh, thee is Richard Morton?” she said. 
“ Cousin Ruth and Adah have told us all about 
thee. Please come in, for I want to make thy ac- 


ADAH. 


419 


quaintance. Adah will be so sorry to miss thee. 
She has gone out for the evening.’' 

“ If she will permit me,” I said, ” I will call to- 
morrow, on my way down town, for I wish to see 
her very much. ” 

” Do so, by all means. Come whenever thee 
can, and informally. Thee’ll always find a welcome 
here.” 

Before I was aware I had spent an hour in pleas- 
ant chat, for with the Yocombs as mutual friends 
we had common interests. 

Mrs. Winfield, my hostess, had all the elegance 
of Mrs. Bradford ; but there was also a simple, 
friendly heartiness in her manner that stamped 
every word she spoke with sincerity. I was greatly 
pleased, and felt that the wealthy banker and his 
sister could find no fault with Adah’s connections. 

She greeted me the next morning like the sister 
she had become in very truth. 

” Oh, Richard !” she exclaimed, “I’m so glad 
to see thee. Why ! thee’s so improved I’d hardly 
know thee. Seems to me thee’s grown taller and 
larger every way. 

” I fear I looked rather small sometimes in the 
country.” 

” No, Richard, thee never looked small to me ; 
but when I think what I was when thee found me, 
I don’t wonder thee went up to thy room in dis- 
gust. I’ve thought a great deal since that day, and 
I’ve read some too.” 

“If you knew how proud of you I am now, it 
would turn your head.” 


426 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ Perhaps ; it isn’t very strong. So thee’s going 
to eat thy Thanksgiving dinner at home. I shall 
be well out of the way.” 

“You will never be in my way ; but perhaps I 
might have been in somebody’s way had I come 
earlier last night.” 

“ I thought thee was blind,” she said, an exqui- 
site color comiiig into her beautiful face. 

“ Never to your interests, Adah. Count on me 
to the last drop. ” 

“ Oh, Richard thee has been so kind and helpful 
to me. Thee’ll never know all that’s in my heart. 
When I think what I was when I first knev/ thee, 

I wonder at it all. ” 

“Adah,” I said, taking her hand, “you have 
become a genuine woman. The expression of your 
face has changed, and it has become a fine example 
of the truth, that even beauty follows the law of 
living growth — from within outward. Higher 
thoughts, noble principle, and unselfishness are 
making their impress. After our long separation I 
see the change distinctly, and I feel it still more. 
You have won my honest respect, Adah ; I predict 
for you a happy life, and, what is more, you will 
make others happy. People will be the better for 
being with you. ” 

“ Well, Richard, now that we are brother and 
sister, I don’t mind telling thee that it was thee 
who woke me up. I was a fool before thee came.” 

“ But the true, sweet woman was in your nature 
ready to be awakened. Other causes would soon 
have produced the same effect.” 


ADAH. 


421 


“ Possibly ; but I don’t know anything about 
other causes. I do know thee, and I trust thee 
with my whole heart, and I’m going to talk frankly 
with thee because I want to ask thy advice. Thee 
knows how near to death I came. I’ve thought 
a great deal about it. Having come so near losing 
life, I began to think what life meant — what it was — 
and I was soon made to see how petty and silly my 
former life had been. My heart just overflowed 
with gratitude toward thee. When thee was so ill 
I would often lie awake whole nights thinking and 
trembling lest thee should die. I felt so strangely, 
so weak and helpless, that I stretched out my 
hands to thee, and thy strong hands caught and 
sustained me through that time when I was neither 
woman nor child. Thee never humiliated me by 
even a glance. Thee treated me with a respect 
that I did not deserve, but which I want to de- 
serve. I am not strong, like Emily Warren, but I 
am trying to do right. Thee changed a blind im- 
pulse into an abiding trust and sisterly afTection. 
Thee may think I’m giving thee a strange proof of 
my trust. I am going to tell thee something that 
Tve not told any one yet. Last evening Gilbert 
Hearn took me to see his sister, Mrs. Bradford, and 
I spent the evening with them and little Adela. 
Coming home he asked me to be his wife. I was 
not so very greatly surprised, for he spent every 
First Day in October at our house while Adela was 
with us, and he was very attentive to me. Father 
and mother don’t like it very much, but I think 
they are a little prejudiced against him on thy ac- 


422 


A DA y OF FA TE. 


count. I believe thee will tell me the truth about 
him. " 

“Adah dear, you have honored me greatly. I 
will advise you just as I would my own sister. 
What did you answer him last evening Y' 

“ I told him that I was a simple country girl, and 
not suited to be his wife. Then he said that he had 
a right to his own views about that. He said he 
wanted a genuine wife — one that would love him 
and his little girl, and not a society woman, who 
would marry him for his money.” 

“ That is exceedingly sensible.” 

“Yes, he said he wanted a home, and that he 
was fond of quiet home life ; that I came of a quiet, 
sincere people, and that he had seen enough of me 
to know that he could trust me. He said also that 
I could be both a mother and a companion to 
Adela, and that the child needed just such a dis- 
position as I had.” 

I laughed as I said, “ Mr. Hearn is sagacity it- 
self. Even Solomon could not act more wisely 
than lie~TTTeeking to act. But what does your 
heart say to all this, Adah ?’ ’ 

Her color deepened, and she averted her face. 

‘ Thee will think Tm dreadfully matter-of-fact, 
Richard, but I think that perhaps we are suited to 
each other. Tve thought about it a great deal. 
As I said before, my head isn’t very strong. I 
couldn’t understand half the things thee thinks and 
writes about. I’ve seen that clearly. He wouldn’t 
expect a wife to understand his business, and he 
says he wants to Jbrget all about it when he comes 


ADAH. 


4^3 


home. He says he likes a place full of beauty, re- 
pose, and genial light. He likes quiet dinner parties 
made up of his business friends, and not literary 
people like thee. We haven’t got great, inquiring 
minds like thee and Emily Warren.” 

” You are making fun of me now, Adah. I fear 
Miss Warren has thrown me over in disgust.” 

” Nonsense, Richard. She loves thy little finger 
more than I am capable of loving any man. She is 
strong and intense, and she could go with thee in 
thought wherever thee pleases. I’m only Adah.” 

“Yes, you are Adah, and the man who has the 
reputation of having the best of everything in the 
city wants you badly, and with good reason. But 
I want to know what you want.” 

“ I want to know what thee thinks of it. I want 
thee to tell me about him. Does thee know any- 
thing against him 

“ No, Adah, ^^ven when I feared he would dis- 
appoint my dearest hope, I told your mother that 
he was an honorable man. He is exceedingly 
shrewd in business, but I never heard of his doing 
anything that was not square. I think he would 
make you a very kind, considerate husband, and, 
as he says, you could do so much for his little girl. 
But, rich as he is, Adah, he is not rich enough for 
you unless you can truly love him.” 

“ I think I can love him in my quiet way. I 
think I would be happy in the life I would lead 
with him. I’m fond of housekeeping, and very fond 
of pretty things and of the city, as thee knows. 
Then I could do so much for them all at home. 


424 


A DAY OF FATE. 


Father and mother are growing old. Father lent 
money some years ago, and lost it, and he and 
mother have to work too hard. I could do so much 
for them and for Zillah, and that would make me 
happy. But I am so simple, and I know so little, 
that I fear I can’t satisfy him.” 

” I have no fear on that score. What I am 
anxious about is, will he satisfy you ? You can’t 
realize how bent upon your happiness I am.” 

” I thank thee, Richard. I was not wrong in 
coming to thee. Well, I told him that I wanted to 
think it all over, and I 'asked him to do the same. 
He said he had fully made up his mind, and that 
his sister heartily approved of his course, and had 
advised it. He said that he would wait for me as 
long as I pleased. Now if thee thinks it’s best, 
thy words would have much influence with father 
and mother.” 

I raised her hand to my lips, and said feelingly, 
” Adah, I am very grateful for this confidence. I 
feel more honored that you should have come to 
me than if I had been made Governor. In view of 
what you have said, I do think it’s best. Mr. 
Hearn will always be kind and considerate. He 
will be very proud of you, and you will grow rapidly 
in those qualities that will adorn your high social 
position. Do not undervalue yourself. Gilbert 
Hearn may well thank God for you everyday of his 
life.” 

I went down to the office in a mood to write an 
interminable Thanksgiving editorial, for it seemed 
as if the clouds were all breaking away. 


CHAPTER XX. 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 

O N the day before Thanksgiving one of my 
associates clapped me on the shoulder, and 
said, laughing, 

“Morton, what’s the matter? You are as 
nervous as a girl on her wedding-day. I’ve spoken 
to you twice, and you’ve not answered. Has one 
of the dragons got the best of you ?’’ 

I woke up, and said quietly, “ It isn’t a dragon 
this time. ’’ 

Oh, how vividly that evening comes back to me, 
as I walked swiftly up town ! It would have been 
torture to have ridden in a lumbering stage or crawl- 
ing street-car. I scarcely knew what I thrust into 
my travelling bag. I had no idea what I ate for 
dinner, and only remember that I scalded myself 
slightly with hot coffee. Calling a coupe, I dashed 
off to a late train that passed through the village 
nearest to the farmhouse. 

It had been arranged that I should come the fol 
lowing morning, and that Reuben should meet me, 
but I proposed to give them a surprise. Jl could 
not wait one moment longer than I must. I had 
horrible dreams in the stuffy little room at the vil- 
lage inn, but consoled myself with the thought 
that “ dreams go by contraries.” 

After a breakfast on which mine ho t cleared two 


426 


A DAY OP PA TP. 


hundred per cent, I secured a light wagon and 
driver, and started for the world's one Mecca for 
me. My mind was in a tumult of mingled hope and 
fear, and I experienced all a young soldier's trepida- 
tion when going into his first battle. If she had 
not come : if she would not listen to me. The cold 
perspiration would start out on my brow at the 
very thought. What a mockery Thanksgiving 
day would ever become if my hopes were disappoint- 
ed. Even now I cannot recall that interminable 
ride without a faint awakening of the old unrest. 

When within half a mile of the house I dis- 
missed my driver, and started on at a tremendous 
pace ; but my steps grew slower and slower, and 
when the turn of the road revealed the dear old 
place just before me, I leaned against a wall faint 
and trembling. I marked the spot on which I had 
stood when the fiery bolt descended, and some 
white shingles indicated the place on the mossy 
roof where it had burned its way into the home that 
even then enshrined my dearest treasures. I saw the 
window at which Emily Warren had directed the 
glance that had sustained my hope for months. I 
looked wistfully at the leafless, flowerless garden, 
where I had first recognized my Eve. “ Will'her 
manner be like the present aspect of that garden ?” 
I groaned. I saw the arbor in which I had made 
my wretched blunder. I had about broken myself 
of profanity, but an ugly expression slipped out (I 
hope the good angel makes allowances for human 
nature). Recalling the vow I had made in that 
arbor, I snatched up my valise and did not stop 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 42 ? 

till I had mounted the piazza. Further suspense 
was unendurable. My approach had been unnoted, 
nor had I seen any of the family. Noiselessly as 
possible I opened the door and stood within the 
hallway. I heard Mrs. Yocomb’s voice in the 
kitchen. Reuben was whistling up-stairs, and Zillah 
singing her doll to sleep in the dining-room. I took 
these sounds to be good omens. If she had not 
come there would not have been such cheerfulness. 

With silent tread I stole to the parlor door. At 
my old seat by the window was Emily Warren, writ- 
ing on a portfolio in her lap. For a second a blur 
came over my vision, and then I devoured her with 
my eyes as the famishing would look at food. 

Had she changed } Yes, but only to become 
tenfold more beautiful, for her face now had that 
indescribable charm which suffering, nobly endured, 
imparts. I could have knelt to her like a Catholic 
to his patron saint. 

She felt my presence, for she looked up quickly. 
The portfolio dropped from her lap ; she was 
greatly startled, and instinctively put her hand to 
her side ; still I thought I saw welcome dawning in 
her eyes ; but at this moment Zillah sprang into 
my arms and half smothered me with kisses. Her 
cries of delight brought Reuben tearing down the 
.stairs, and Mrs. Yocomb, hastening from the 
kitchen, left the mark of her floury arm on the col- 
lar of my coat as she gave me a motherly salute. 
Their welcome was so warm, spontaneous, and 
real that tears came into my eyes, for I felt that I 
was no longer a lonely man without kindred. 


428 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


But after a moment or two I broke away from 
them and turned to Miss Warren, for after all my 
Thanksgiving day depended upon her. 

She had become very pale, but her eyes were 
glistening at the honest feeling she had witnessed. 

I held out my hand, and asked, in a low voice, 
“ May I stay ?” 

“ I could not send you away' from such friends, 
Mr. Morton,” she said gently, “even had I the 
right,” and she held out her hand. 

I think I hurt it, for I grasped it as if I were 
drowning. 

Reuben had raced down to the barn to call his 
father, who now followed him back at a pace that 
scarcely became his age and Quaker tenets. 

“ Richard,” he called, as soon as he saw me, 
“ welcome home ! Thee’s been a long time com- 
ing, and yet thee’s stolen a march on us after all. 
Reuben was just going for thee.. How did thee get 
here ? There’s no train so early.” 

“ Oh, I came last night. A ship’s cable couldn’t 
hold me the moment I could get away.” 

“ Mother, I think that’s quite a compliment to 
us old people, ’ ’ he began, with the humorous twinkle 
that I so well remembered in his honest eyes. 
“ Has thee seen Adah ?” 

“Yes, indeed, and she sent more love than I 
could carry to you all. She looked just lovely, and 
I nearly forgot to go down town that morning.” 

Miss Warren was about to leave the room, but 
the old gentleman caught her hand and asked, 

“ Where is thee going, Emily ?” 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


429 

“ Pardon me ; I thought you would all have much 
to say to Mr. Morton.” 

” So we have, to be sure. We won’t get half 
j through to-day, but that’s no reason for thy leaving 
us. We are all one family under this roof, thank 
God, and I’m going to thank him to-day in good 
old style and no make-believe;” and he kopt her 
. hand as she sat down by him. 

j ‘‘If you knew how homesick I’ve often been you 
^ would realize how much good your words do me,” 
she replied gratefully. 

‘‘ So thee’s been homesick, has thee ? Well, thee 
didn’t let us know.” 

‘‘What good would it have done I couldn’t 
come before. ” 

‘‘ Well, I am kind of glad thee was homesick. 
The missing wasn’t all on our side. Why, Richard, 
thee never saw such a disconsolate household as we 
# were after Emily left. I even lost my appetite — 
didn’t, I mother? — and that’s more than I’ve done 
for any lady since Ebenezer Holcomb cut me out of 
thy company at a picnic — let me see, how many 
years ago is it, mother?” 

‘‘ Thee doesn’t think I remember such foolish- 
ness, I hope,” said the old lady ; but with a rising 
color almost pretty as the blush I had seen so re- 
cently on Adah’s face. 

Mr. Yocomb leaned back and laughed. ‘‘ See 
mother blush,” he cried. ‘‘ Poor Ebenezer !” 

‘‘ Thee’ll want more than light nonsense for thy 
dinner by and by, so I must go back to the 
kitchen.” 


430 


A DAY OJ^ FA TE. 


As she turned away she gave a sweet suggestion 
of the blushing girl for whom Ebenezer had sighed 
in vain, and I said emphatically, “Yes, indeed, Mr. 
Yocomb, you may well say ‘ Poor Ebenezer ! 
How in the world did he ever survive it ?“ 

“ Thee’s very sympathetic, Richard.” 

Miss Warren looked at him threateningly. 

I tried to laugh it off, and said, “ Even if he had 
a millstone for a heart, it must have broken at 
such a loss.” 

“ Oh, don’t thee worry. He’s a hale and hearty 
grandfather to-day.” 

Miss Warren broke into a laugh that set all my 
nerves tingling. “Yes,” she cried, “ I thought it 
would end in that way.” 

“ Why, Emily, bless thee !” said Mrs. Yocomb, 
running in, “ I haven’t heard thee laugh so since 
thee came.” 

“ She’s at her old tricks,” said her husband ; 
“ laughing at Richard and me.” 

I found her merriment anything but reassur 
ing, and I muttered under my breath, “ Perdition 
on Ebenezer and his speedy comfort ! I hope she 
don’t class me with him.” 

Very soon Mrs. Yocomb appeared again, and 
said, “ Father, thee must take them all out to drive. 
I can’t do anything straight while I hear you all 
talking and laughing, for my thoughts are with 
you I’ve put salt into one pie already. A Thanks- 
giving dinner requires one’s whole mind.” 

“ Bustle, bustle, all get ready. Mother’s mistress 
of this house on Thanksgiving day, if at no other 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


431 


time. We’re commanded to obey the ‘ powers 
that be/ and if the woman who can get up such a 
dinner as mother can isn’t a ‘power/ I’d like to 
know where we’ll find one. I’m very meek and 
respectful on Thanksgiving morning. Get on thy 
wraps, Emily. No mutiny before dinner.” 

She seemed very ready to go, for I think she 
dreaded being left alone with me. I, too, was glad 
to gain time, for I was strangely unnerved and 
apprehensive. She avoided meeting my eyes, and 
was inscrutable. 

In a few moments we were in the family rocka- 
way, bowling over the country at a grand pace. 

‘‘Mother’s shrewd,” said Mr. Yocomb ; “she 
knew that a ride like this in the frosty air would 
give us an appetite for any kind of a dinner, but 
it will make hers taste like the Feast of Tabernacles. 
p Let ’em go, Reuben, let ’em go !” 

“ Do you call this a Quaker pace?” asked Miss 
Warren, who sat with Zillah on the back seat. 

‘‘Yes, I’m acting just as I feel moved. Thee’s 
much too slow for a Friend, Emily. Now I’ll wager 
thee a plum that Richard likes it. Doesn’t thee, 
Richard ?” 

“ Suppose a wheel should come off,” I suggested. 
“ I’m awfully nervous to-day. I was sure the 
train would break down or run off the track last 
night ; then I had horrible dreams at the hotel.” 

‘‘ Why, Mr. Morton !” Miss Warren exclaimed, 
“ what did you eat for supper ?” 

“ Bless me ! I don’t know. Come to think of 
it, I didn’t have any. ” 


432 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ Did thee have any breakfast asked Ivir. Yo- 
comb, who seemed greatly amused. 

“ I believe so. I went through the motions.” 

” Drive slow, Reuben ; Richard’s afraid he’ll 
have his neck broken before dinner and they all 
had a great laugh at my expense. 

” I’ve won the plum this time,” cried Miss 
Warren. 

” Thee has indeed, and thee deserves it sure 
enough.” 

I looked around at her, but could not catch her 
eye. My efforts to emulate Mr. Yocomb’s spirit 
were superhuman, but my success was indifferent. 
I was too anxious, too doubtful concerning the girl 
who was so gentle and yet so strong. She had far 
more quietude and self-mastery than I, and with 
good reason, for she was mistress of the situation. 
Still, I gathered hope every hour, for I felt that her 
face would not be so happy, so full of brightness, if 
she proposed to send me away disappointed, 
or even put me off on further probation. Never- 
theless, my Thanksgiving day would not truly 
begin until my hope was confirmed. 

Dinner was smoking on the table when we re- 
turned, and it was so exceedingly tempting that I 
enjoyed its aroma with much of Mr. Yocomb’s satis- 
faction, and I sat down .at his right, feeling that if 
one question were settled I would be the most 
thankful man in the land. 

We bowed our heads in grace ; but after a moment 
Mr. Yocomb arose, and with uplifted face repeated 
words that might have been written for the occ^- 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


433 


sion, so wonderfully adapted to human life is the 
Book of God. 

“ Bless the Lord, O my soul : and all that is 
within me, bless his holy name. 

“ Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his 
benefits : 

“ Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who heal- 
eth all thy diseases ; 

“ Who redeem eth thy life from destruction ; 
who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender 
mercies. 

“ Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things ; so 
that thy youth is renewed like the eagles.” 

Never was there a grace so full of grace before. 
If a kind earthly father looks with joy on his happy 
children, so surely the divine Father must have 
smiled upon us. In the depths of my heart I re- 
spected a faith that was so simple, genuine, and full 
of sunshine. Truly, it had come from heaven, and 
not from the dyspeptic creeds of cloistered theolo- 
gians. 

“Father,” cried Zillah, “thee looked like my 
picture of King David.” 

“ Well Fm in a royal mood,” replied her father, 
“ and I don’t believe King David ever .had half so 
good a dinner as mother has provided. Such a 
dinner, Richard, is the result of genius. All the 
cook-books in the world couldn’t account for it, and 
I don’t believe mother has read one of them.” 

“ Thee must give Cynthia part of the credit,” 
protested his wife. 

“ She’s the woman who says ‘ Lord a massy,’ 


434 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


and insists that I was struck with lightning, isn’t 
she?” and I glanced toward Miss Warren, but she 
wouldn’t meet my eye. Her deepening color told 
of a busy memory, however. Mr. Yocomb began 
to laugh so heartily that he dropped his knife and 
fork on the table and leaned back in his chair quite 
overcome. 

” Father, behave thyself,” his wife remonstrated. 

At last the old gentleman set to work in good 
earnest. ” Emily,” he said, ” this is that innocent 
young gobbler that thee so commiserated. Thee 
hasn’t the heart to eat him, surely.” 

” I’ll take a piece of the breast, if you please.” 

” Wouldn’t thee like his heart ?” 

“No, I thank you.” 

” What part would thee like, Richard ?” 

” Anything but his wings and legs. They would 
remind me how soon I must go back to awful New 
York.” 

” Not before Second Day.” 

“Yes, sir, to-morrow morning. An editor s play- 
spells are few and far between.” 

“Well, Richard, thee thrives on work,” said 
Mrs. Yocomb. 

“Yes, I’ve found it good for me.’ 

“ And you have done good work, Mr. Morton,” 
added Miss Warren. I like your paper far better 
now. 

“ But you stopped it.” 

“ Did you find that out ?” 

“ Indeed I did, and very quickly.” 

“ My cousin, Mrs. Vining, took the paper/' 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


435 


“Yes, I know that, too. * 

“Why, Mr^ Morton! do you keep track of all 
your readers ? The circulation of your paper can- 
not be large. “ 

“ I looked after Mrs. Vining carefully, but no 
farther.” 

“ I shall certainly tell her of your interest,” she 
said, with her old mirthful gleam. 

“ Please do. The peopl? at the office would be 
agape with wonder if t'.iey knew of the influence 
resulting from Mrs. Vining’s name being on the 
subscription list.” 

“ Not a disastrous influence, I trust ?” 

“ It has occasioned us some hot work. My chief 
says that nearly all the dragons in the country are 
stirred up.” 

“ And some of them have been sorely wounded 
--Tve noted that too,” said the girl, flushing with 
pleasure in spite of herself. 

“Yes, please tell Mrs. Vining that also. Credit 
should be given where it's due.” 

Her laugh now rang out with its old-time genu- 
ineness. “ Cousin Adelaide would be more agape 
than the people of your office. I think the dragons 
owe their tribulations to your disposition to fight 
them.” 

“If you could see some words in illuminated text 
over my desk you would know better.” 

“ Mr. Yocomb, don’t you think we are going to 
have an early winter?” she asked abruptly, with 
a fine color in her face. 

“ I don’t think it’s going to be cold — not very 


43 ^ 


A DAY OF FA Tjz. 


cold, Emily. There are prospects of a thaw to- 
day and the old gentleman leaned back in his 
chair and shook with suppressed merriment. 

“ Father, behave thyself. Was there ever such a 
man !” Mrs. Yocomb exclaimed reproachfully. 

“ I know you think there never was and never 
will be, Mrs. Yocomb,” I cried, controlling myself 
with difficulty, for the old gentleman’s manner was 
irresistibly droll “ and instead of the pallor that 
used to make my heart ache. Miss Warren’s face 
was like a carnation rose. My hope grew apace, for 
her threatening looks at Mr. Yocomb contained no 
trace of pain or deep annoyance, while the embar- 
rassment she could not hide so enhanced her loveli- 
ness that it was a heavy cross to withhold my eager 
eyes. Reuben kindly came to our relief, for he 
said, 

” I tell thee what it is, mother : I teel as if we 
ought to have Dapple in here with us.” 

” Emily, wouldn’t thee rather have Old Plod?” 
Mr. Yocomb asked. 

W !” she replied brusquely ; and this set her 
kind tormentor off once more. 

But an earnest look soon came into his face, and 
he said, with eyes moist with teeling, 

” Well, this is a time oi thanksgiving, and never 
before in all my life has my heart seemed so full of 
gladness and gratitude. Richaid, I crept in this 
old home when I was a baby, and 1 whistled through 
the house just as Reuben does. In this very loom 
my dear old lather trimmed my jacket tor me, God 
bless him ! Oh, I deserved it richly ; but mother's 


THANJCSGIVING DAY, 


431 


sorrowful looks cut deeper, I can tell thee. It was 
to this home I brought the prettiest lass in the 
county — what am I saying ? — the prettiest lass in the 
"world. No offence to thee, Emily ; thee wasn’t 
alive then. If every m an had such a home as thee 
has made for me and the children, mother, the mil- 
"lennium would begin before next Thanksgiving, 
'^n this house my children were born, and here they 
have played. I’ve seen their happy faces in every 
nook and corner, and with everything I have a dear 
association. In this home we bade good-by to 
our dear little Ruth ; she’s ours still, mother, and 
she is at home, too, as we are but everything in 
this house that our little angel child touched has 
become sacred to me. Ah, Richard, there are 
some things in life that thee hasn’t learned yet, and 
all the books couldn’t teach thee ; but what I have 
said to thee reveals a little of my love for this old 
home. How I love those whom God has given me, 
only he knows. Well, he directed thy random steps 
to us one day last June, and we welcomed thee as 
a stranger. But thee has a different welcome to- 
day, Richard — a very different welcome. Thee 
doesn’t like to hear about it ; but we never ft>rget. ” 
“No, Richard, we never forget,’’ Mrs. Yocomb 
breathed softly. 

“ Do you think, sir, that I forget the unquestion- 
ing hospitality that brought me here? Can y.>u 
think, Mrs. Yocomb, I ever forget the words yv u 
spoke to me in yonder parlor on the evening of my 
arrival f or that I should have died but for your 
devoted and merciful care ? This day, with its 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


43 ^ 

hopes, teaches me how immeasurable would have 
been my loss, for my prospects then were not bright 
for either world. Rest assured, dear friends, I have 
my memories too. The service I rendered you any 
man would have given, and it was my unspeakable 
good fortune to be here. But the favors which I 
have received have been royal ; they are such as I 
could not receive from others, because others would 
be incapable of bestowing them.” 

” You are right, Mr. Morton,” Miss Warren be- 
gan impetuously, her lovely eyes full of tears. ” I, 
too, have received kindnesses that could not come 
from others, because others would not know how to 
confer them with your gentleness and mercy, Mrs. 
Yocomb. Oh ! oh ! I wish I could make you 
and your husband know how I thank you. ly 
too, never forget. But if we talk this way any 
more, I shall have to make a hasty retreat.” 

‘‘ Well, I should say this was a thanksgiving din- 
ner,” remarked Reuben sententiously. 

Since we couldn’t cry, we all laughed, and I 
thanked the boy for letting us down so cleverly. 
The deep feeling that memories would evoke in spite 
of ourselves sank back into the depths of our hearts. 
The shadow on our faces passed like an April cloud, 
and the sunshine became all the sweeter and 
brighter. 

” If Adah were only here !” I cried. ” I miss 
her more and more every moment, and the occasion 
seems wholly incomplete without her.” 

“ Yes, dear child, I miss her too, more than I can 
tell you,” said Mrs. Yocomb, her eyes growing very 


THANKSGIVING DA Y. 


439 


tender and wistful. “ She’s thinking of us. Doesn’t 
thee think she has improved ? She used to read 
those magazines thee sent her till I had to take 
them away and send her to bed.” 

” I can’t tell you how proud I am of Adah. It 
was like a June day to see her fair sweet face in the 
city, and it would have had done your hearts good 
if you could have heard how she spoke of you all.” 

” Adah is very proud of her big brother, too, I 
can tell thee. She quotes thy opinions on all occa- 
sions. ” 

” The one regret of my visit is that I shall not 
see her,” Miss Warren said earnestly. ” Mrs. Yo- 
comb, I have those roses she gave me the day be- 
fore I left you last summer, and I shall always keep 
them. I told Cousin Adelaide that they were given 
to me by the best and most beautiful girl in the 
world.” • 

” God bless the girl !” ejaculated Mr. Yocomb ; 
” she has become a great comfort and joy to me 
and his wife smiled softly and tenderly. 

” Adah is so good to me,” cried Zillah, ” that if 
Emily hadn’t come I wouldn’t have half enjoyed 
the day.” 

“ What does thee think of that view of the occa- 
sion, Richard?” asked Mr. Yocomb. 

” Zillah and I always agreed well together,” I 
said ; ” but I wish Adah knew how much we miss 
her.” 

” She shall know,” said her mother. ” I truly 
wish we had all of our children with us to-day ; for, 
Richard, we have adopted thee and Emily without 


440 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


asking your consent ^ think the lightning fused 
us all together." 

I looked with a quick flash toward Miss Warren, 
but her eyes were on the mother, and they were 
full of a daughter’s love. 

" Dear Mrs. Yocomb," I replied, in a voice not 
over-steady, " you know that as far as fusing was 
concerned I was the worst struck of you all, and 
this day proves that I am no longer without kin- 
dred." 

But how vain the effort to reproduce the light 
and shade that filled the quaint, simple room ! 
How vain the attempt to make the myriad ripples 
of that hour flow and sparkle again, each one of us 
me^^nwhile conscious of the depths beneath them! 


CHAPTER XXI. 


RIPPLES ON DEEP WATER. 

A fter dinner was over, Reuben cried, “ Come, 
Zillah, I’m going out with Dapple, and I’ll 
give thee a ride that’ll settle thy dinner. Emily, 
thee hasn’t petted Dapple to-day. Thee’s very 
forgetful of one of thy best friends.” 

” Do you know,” said Miss Warren to me as we 
followed the boy, ” Reuben sent Dapple’s love to 
me every time he wrote ?” 

” It’s just what Dapple would have done himself 
if he could. Did you refuse to receive it ?” 

” No indeed. Why should I?” 

” Oh, I’m not jealous ; only I can’t help thinking 
that the horse had greater privileges than I.” 

She bit her lip, and her color deepened, but 
instead of answering she tripped away from me 
toward the barn. Dapple came prancing out, and 
whinnied as soon as he saw her. 

” Oh, he knows thee as well as 1 do,” said Reu- 
ben. ” He thinks thee’s a jolly good girl. Thee’s 
kind of cut me out ; but I owe thee no grudge. 
See how he’ll come to thee now,” and sure enough, 
the horse came and put his nose in her hand, where 
he found a lump of sugar. 

” I won’t give you fine words only. Dapple,” she 
said, and the beautiful animal’s spirited eyes grew 
mild and gentle as if he understood her perfectly. 


442 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


“ Heaven grant that she gives me more than 
words!” I muttered. 

While Reuben was harnessing Dapple, Miss War- 
ren entered the barn, saying, 

” I feel a little remorseful over my treatment of 
Old Plod, and think I will go and speak to him.” 

” May 1 be present at the interview ?” 

“Certainly.” 

Either the old horse had grown duller and heavier 
than ever, or else was offended by her long neglect, 
for he paid her but little attention, and kept his 
head down in his manger. 

“ Dapple would not treat you like that, even if 
you hadn’t a lump of sugar in your hand.” 

“ Dapple is peculiar,” she remarked. 

“Do you mean a little ill-balanced? He was 
certainly very precipitate on one occasion.” 

“Yes, but he had the grace to stop before he did 
any harm.” 

“ But suppose he couldn’t stop? Did Old Plod 
give you any more advice ?” 

“ Mr. Morton, you must curb your editorial habit 
of inquiring into everything. Am 1 a dragon ?” 

“ I fear you more than all the dragons put to- 
gether. 

“ Then you area brave man to stay.” 

“ Not at all. To run away would be worse than 
death. ” 

“ What an awful dilemma you are in ! It seems 
to me, however, the coolest veteran in the land could 
not have made a better dinner while in such peril.” 

“ 1 had scarcely eaten anything since yesterday 


RIPPLES ON DEEP WATER. 


443 


morning. Moreover, 1 was loyally bound to com- 
pliment Mrs. Yocomb’s efforts in the only way that 
would have satisfied her.” 

” That reminds me that 1 ought to go and help 
Mrs. Yocomb clear away the vast debris of such a 
dinner.” 

” Miss Warren, I have only this afternoon and 
evening. ” 

” Truly, Mr. Morton, the pathos in your tones 
would move a post..” 

” But will it move you? That’s the question 
that concerns me. Will you take a walk with me ?” 

” Indeed, I think I must go now, if I would not 
be thought more insensible than a post. Wait till I 
put on more wraps, and do you get your overcoat, 
sir, or you will take cold.” 

” Yes, Tm awfully afraid I shall be chilled, and 
the overcoat wouldn’t help me. Nevertheless, Til 
do your bidding in this, as in all respects.” 

‘‘ What a lamb-like frame of mind !” she cried ; 
but her step up the piazza was light and quick. 

” She could not so play with me if she meant to 
be cruel, for she has not a feline trait,” I mur- 
mured, as I pulled on my ulster. ” This genial 
day has been my ally, and she has not the heart to 
embitter it. So far from finding ‘other interests,’ 
she must have seen that time has intensified the 
one chief interest of my life. Oh, it would be like 
death to be sent away again. How beautiful she 
has become in her renewed health ! Her great 
spiritual eyes make me more conscious of the 
woman-angel within her than of a flesh-and-blood 


444 


A DAY OF FA TE. 


girl. Human she is indeed, but never of the 
earth, earthy. Even when I take her hand, now 
again so plump and pretty, I feel the exquisite thrill 
of her life within. It’s like touching a spirit, were 
such a thing possible. I crushed her hand this 
morning, brute that I was ! It’s been red all day. 
Well, Heaven speed me now !” 

“ What ! talking to yourself again, Mr. Mor- 
ton ?” asked Miss Warren, suddenly appearing, and 
looking anything but spirit-like, with her rich color 
and substantial wraps. 

“ It’s a habit of lonely people,” I said. 

“The idea of a man being lonely among such 
crowds as you must meet !” 

” I have yet to learn that a crowd makes com- 
pany.” 

” Wouldn’t you like to ask Mr. Yocomb to go 
with us ?” 

” No,” I replied, very brusquely. 

” I fear your lamb- like mood is passing away.” 

” Not at all. Moreover, I’m a victim of remorse 
— I hurt your hand this morning.” 

“Yes, you did.” 

“ I’ve hurt you a great many times.” 

“ I’m alive, thank you, and have had a good 
dinner.” 

“Yes, you are very much alive. Are you very 
amiable after dinner?” 

“ No ; that’s a trait belonging to men alone. I 
now understand your lamb -like mood. But where 
are you going, Mr. Morton? You*are walking at 
r^ndom^ and have brought up against the barn,” 


lUPFLES ON DEEP WATER. 445 

“ Oh, I see. Wouldn’t you like to visit Old 
Plod again ?” 

‘'No, I thank you ; he has forgotten me.” 

” By the way, we are friends, are we not, and 
can be very confidential ?” 

” If you have any doubt, you had better be pru^ 
dent and reticent.” 

” I wish I could find some sweetbrier ; I’d give 
you the whole bush.” 

” Do you think I deserve a thorny experience ?” 

‘‘You know what I think. When was there an 
hour when you did not look through me as if I were 
glass. But we are confidential friends, are we not ?” 

‘‘ Well, for the sake of argument we may im- 
agine ourselves such.” 

‘‘ To be logical, then, I must tell you something 
of which I have not yet spoken to any one. I called 
on Adah the evening I learned she was in town, and 
I saw her enter an elegant coupe driven by a coach- 
man in stunning livery. A millionaire of your ac- 
quaintance accompanied her.” 

‘‘ What !” she exclaimed, her face becoming 
fairly radiant. 

I nodded very significantly. 

‘‘ For shame, Mr. Morton ! What a gossip you 
are !” but her laugh rang out like a chime of silver 
bells. 

At that moment Mr. Yocomb appeared on the 
piazza, and he applauded loudly, ‘‘ Good for thee, 
Emily,” he cried, ‘‘ that sounds like old times.” 

‘‘ Come away, quick,” I said, and I sfrode rapidly 
around the barn, 


A DAY OF FA TE, 


446 

“ Do you expect me to keep up with you ?’* she 
asked, stopping short and looking so piquant and 
tempting that I rejoined her instantly. 

“ ril go as slow as you please. I’ll do anything 
under heaven you bid me.” 

“ You treat Mr. Yocomb very shabbily.” 

“ You won’t make me go after him, will you 

” Why, Mr. Morton ! What base ingratitude, 
and after such a dinner too.” 

“ You know how ill-balanced I am.” 

” I fear you are growing worse and worse.” 

” I am indeed. Left to myself, I should be the 
most unbalanced man in the world. 

” Mr. Morton, your mind is clearly unsettled. I 
detected the truth the first day I sa v you.” 

” No, my mind, such as it is, is made up irre- 
vocably and forever. I must tell you that I can’t 
afford to keep a coupe.” 

” There is a beautiful sequence in your remarks. 
Then you ought not t keep one. But why com- 
plain / There are always omnibuses within call” 

” Are you fond of riding in an omnibus ?” 

” What an irrelevant question ! Suppose I fol- 
low your example, and ask what you think of the 
Copernican system ?” 

“You can’t be ill-balanced if you try, and your 
question is not in the least irrelevant. The Coper- 
nican S5^stem is true, and illustrates my position ex- 
actly. There is a heavenly body, radiant with light 
and beauty, that attracts me irresistibly. The mo- 
ment I came within her influence my orbit was 

fixed/' 


RIPPLES OAT DEEP IV A TER. 


447 


“ Isn’t your orbit a little eccentric ?” she asked, 
with averted face. “ Still your figure may be very 
apt. Another body of greater attraction would 
carry you off into space.” 

” There is no such body in existence.” 

‘‘ Mr. Morton, we were talking about omni 
buses.” 

” And you have not answered my question. 

” Since we are such confidential friends, I will 
tell you profound secret. I ')refer street cars to 
omnibuses, and would much atherride in one than 
in a carriage that 1 could not pay for.” 

” Well, now, that’s sensible.” 

” Yes, quite matter-of-fact. W’nere are you 
going, Mr. Morton?' 

Wherever you wisn — even to Columbus.” 

‘‘ What ! run away from your work and duty? 
Where is your conscience ?” 

” Where my heart is. ” 

” Oh, both are in Columbus. I should think it 
inconvenient to have them so far off.” 

I tried to look in her eyes, but she turned them 
away. 

‘‘ 1 can prove that my conscience was in Colum- 
bus ; 1 consulted you on every question I discussed 
in the paper.” 

” Nonsense ! you never wrote me a line.” 

” 1 was enjoined not to in a way that made my 
blood run cold. But 1 thought Mrs. Vining’s opin- 
ions might be influenced by a member of her family, 
and I neyer wrote a line unmindful of that influ- 


ence. 


448 


A DA Y OF FA TE. 


Again her laugh rang out. “ 1 should call the 
place where you wrote the Circumlocution Office. 
Well, to keep up your way of doing things, that 
member of the family read most critically all you 
wrote.” 

How could you tell my work from that of 
others ?” 

” Oh, I could tell every line from your hand as if 
spoken to me.” 

” \Vell, fair critic T' 

” Never compliment a critic. It makes them 
more severe.” 

” I could do so much better if you were in New 
York.” 

” What ! Do you expect me to go into the 
newspaper business ?” 

“You are in it now — you are guiding me. You 
are the inspiration of my best work, and you know 
it.” 

We had now reached a point where the lane 
wound through a hemlock grove. My hope was 
glad and strong, but I resolved at once to remove 
all shadow of fear, and I shrank from further proba- 
tion. Therefore 1 stopped decisively, and said in a 
voice that faltered not a little, 

Emily, our light words are but ripples that 
cover depths which in my case reach down through 
life and beyond it. You are my fate. 1 knew it 
the day 1 first met you. I know it now with ab- 
solute conviction.” 

She turned a little away from me and trembled. 

“ Do you remember this?” 1 asked, and 1 took 


RIPPLES ON DEEP WATER. 


449 


irom my pocketbook the withered York and Lan- 
caster rose-bud. 

She gave it a dark glance, and her crimson face 
grew pale. 

‘‘Too well,” she replied, in a low tone. 

1 threw it down and ground it under my heel ; 
then, removing my hat, 1 said, 

‘ ‘ I am, at your mercy. You are the stronger, and 
your foot is on rny neck.” 

She turned on me instantly, and her face was 
ailam.e with her eager, imperious demand to know 
the truth. Taking both my hands in a tense, strong 
grasp, she looked into my eyes as if she would read 
my very soul. ” Richard,” she said, in a voice that 
was half entreaty, half command, ” in God’s name, 
tell me the truth — the whole truth. Do you respect 
me at heart ? Do you trust me ? Can you trust 
me as Mr. Yocomb trusts his wife ?” 

I will make no comparisons,” I replied gently. 
” Like the widow in the Bible, I give you all I 
have." 

Her tense grasp relaxed, her searching eyes 
meltjd into love itself, and I snatched her to my 
heart. 

“What were the millions I 
this dower!” sh murmured, 
known it all day, ever since you crushed my hand. 
Oh, Richard, your rude touch healed a sore heart.” 

” Emily,” I said, with a low laugh, ‘‘ that June 
day was the day of fate after all.” 

‘ It was, indeed. I wish I could inuke }^ou 
know how gladly I accept mine. Oh, Richard, I 


lost compared with 
” I knew it — Eve 


450 A DAY OF FA TE. 

nearly killed myself trying not to love you. it was 
fate, or something better.” 

” Then suppose we change the figure, and say our 
match was made in heaven.” 

I will not attempt to describe that evening at the 
farm-house. We were made to feel that it was our 
own dear home — a safe, quiet haven ever open to us 
when we wished to escape from the turmoil of the 
world. I thank God for our friends there, and 
their unchanging truth. 

I accompanied Emily to Columbus, but I went 
after her again in the spring, and for a time she 
made her home with Mrs. Yocomb. 

Adah was married at Mrs. Winfield’s large city 
mansion, for Mr. Hearn had a host of relatives and 
friends whom he wished present. The farm-house 
would not have held a tithe of them, and the banker 
was so proud of his fair country flower that he 
seemed to want the whole world to see her. 

We were married on the anniversary of the day 
of our fate, and in the old garden, where I first saw 
my Eve, my truth. She has never tempted me to 
aught save good deeds and brave work. 


THE END. 


I 






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